In This Balance Of Time
by Eirenei
Summary: AU-verse: Zelretch was a certified troll, but even he avoided doing something like colliding four different universes altogether. However, that didn't meant he couldn't enjoy chaos, panic and disorder this new Sky and his Elements left in their wake wherever and whenever they went. Heaven may have mercy on whoever wronged their Sky... because his Elements certainly won't.
1. Chapter 1

_**This Balance Of Time**_

* * *

 _ **FSN/FZ/HP/KHR quad-over**_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I don't own... _Fate/StayNight, Fate/Zero, Harry Potter,_ and _Katekyo Hitman Reborn,_ nor their characters. What a sad, sad world.

 _ **Shout Out: **_ Well. This is … quad-over, as it's basically a crossover of four different universes. I am posting it here because a special person has a birthday and I celebrate it as such.

 _ **Warnings:** **AU** _ on a multiple scales, **_SLASH,_** because really, I can't seem to help myself in this regard – and ... you know what? Just read it. (A generous helping of chibi-protagonists, if that counts as a warning)

* * *

 _A thousand years, a thousand more,_  
 _A thousand times a million doors to eternity_  
 _I may have lived a thousand lives, a thousand times_  
 _An endless turning stairway climbs_  
 _To a tower of souls_

 _('A Thousand Years' by Sting)_

* * *

The balance of time is something both infinitely strong and extremely fragile. Infinitely strong, because the branches of possibilities were usually interrupted by any of the happenings, and also extremely fragile because it took only a small chance, an intersection, if you will, and the tapestry of fate was changed irreversibly, with the changes - be that good or bad - bleeding in the nearby universes by default.

Wizarding Marshal Zelretch knew that all too well, but for once, he wasn't culprit who caused those little things to happen nearly as often as he was accused to be. Because insane or not, even Zelretch knew that there existed some things even he, with his power over Kaleidoscope shouldn't touch with a hundred feet long pole. He may have toed the rules more often than not, and even outright broke some, but even he wasn't as insane as to take the lynchpins of the change in four different universes and bring them together.

This was the kind of thing that usually went _kaboom_ , and took along a whole dimension and a good chunk of ones surrounding it into nothingness.

But suppose there was a freak accident. Nothing more, nothing less. And certainly having to do nothing with the old troll of a vampire. It simply _was_ , and before Zelretch Kischur Schweinorg noticed the consequences, the wheel of fate had already been spinning and weaving a new story. While Zelretch was irked at first, the sheer potential for an unbridled chaos the meeting of the four lynchpins of three different universes together amused him enough to kick back and enjoy the proceedings with a tall chilled glass of tequila mixed with re-em blood and decorated with a tiny blue umbrella with golden polka dots in his hand.

* * *

Kuzuki Soichiro was a quiet kid. He didn't cry or laugh. He didn't react like other children did. The ten and a half-year old was a prodigy in martial arts and a loner. While the other children, when the teachings were over for a day went out to play and laugh, Soichiro went back to the small clearing near the waterfall he had discovered one winter day and continued practicing Snake style. If you have seen him, you would have mistaken him for an ordinary kid - black hair, dark grey eyes, somewhat tall for his age, with slender muscles showing on his body as a result of his training. He was clad in drab grey loose cotton trousers and a similar sleeveless shirt, his feet smudged with dirt.

But this day, instead of going into forest to his usual training spot, he decided to do something else.

Something forbidden.

* * *

The sweltering heat was shimmering in the air as the sun was slowly climbing to its zenith. Even birds, usually almost tirelessly singing their songs, were now tired enough to manage only a cheep or a chirp or two here and there while hiding in the tree branched under the blessed shades. The dust in the small village was sticking uncomfortably to inhabitants' skin while the hustle and bustle of a tiny market was keeping its upbeat rhythm for a little bit longer, with the women chatting and laughing over their wares while the men were exchanging both opinions and news over shots of a homemade alcoholic brew as they were waiting for dinner to be finished. The children were playing around with a homemade ball, kicking it around, laughing and calling out to each other.

People here were poor. They only had the barest of amenities, living a hard life, what with farming the fields of rice the old way still, and there were very few that were lucky enough to have a cow or two. The few chickens roaming around were clucking and cheeping among the people's legs, scratching at the ground to find a worm or bug to stuff into their always hungry beaks. A pair of stray mutts was sitting in the shade - one sleeping, and another was craftily eyeing the pot with the food for the day.

The buildings were simple, made out of red clay with the both window and door openings covered with hand woven cloth as to prevent the entrance to the mosquitoes and other annoying flying critters. There was no electricity to speak of, and the water had to be drawn from the well and brought in the clay pots into the houses. It was epitome of extremely rustic conditions to live in.

But to one little boy, this little village was a place for new adventures. Even if he was still tired from the walk through the forest – it had been a long walk, and the barely visible path was extremely treacherous, what with the slippery slopes - to one messy haired, black-eyed boy, this place was like something out of those adventure novels he so loved to read. As soon as he and his father had settled in a tiny room his father had hired, the boy had zipped out, barely taking a time to drink a little of the water beforehand.

For him, it was nothing new to visit such a place. He had been in Siberia with its bitter cold and unforgiving tundra, and rode through the plains on the horse back day in and day out, and braved eating raw meat and drinking kefir their guide had provided as sustenance. The civilization always chafed at him because he had to be careful then - not that he wanted to be, but his father demanded of him so, and being a dutiful son, he obeyed.

Because if nothing else, Emiya Kiritsugu supposed this would be a good beginning for a hero like him.

* * *

 _'He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.'_ Chocolate brown eyes looked from the too-big book in their owner's small hands at the small village that was their next stop in the course of this strange pilgrimage Father Kotomine had led their owner through. The air was sweltering hot, causing to stick his long-sleeved white shirt to his skin. Aside from now sweat-soaked and slightly-dirty-from-dust white shirt, the boy was clad in black shorts with knee-high black stockings and black shoes. A small golden cross glinted on his small chest, hanging from a simple brown cord. The small bead of sweat rolled on the right side of the child's face, but the boy ignored the tickling feeling like he usually did. Those small discomforts meant nothing to the devoted, anyway.

He was a small, boy-shaped shadow to the Father Kotomine, being present, listening but not speaking, and when he wasn't needed as altar boy, he usually read Bible. The 23rd Psalm was his favorite, and even if he knew it by heart already, he still liked to trace over the words written in the thick book that had been his constant companion ever since he was able to walk.

Still, the heat was beating down his body mercilessly, making him want to twitch to alleviate his discomfort. Instead of that, he closed his book and looked out of the window. The room, despite of its semi-darkness, was a little less heated than the outside, and its sole redeeming feature was a big bowl of fresh water in the left corner. They were settled at the chief's house, something about it having the best accommodations for the honored guests, while in truth, it was more like two separate cots on the ground, covered with a hand-made carpet, depicting some geometrical motiff and with a small chest for their belongings at the wall opposite the door.

The shrieks and laughter of the children's playing attracted his gaze toward the commotion here. It seemed that the tanned, messy-haired boy was laughing when he stole the ball from his opponent, running toward the makeshift goal, and then scoring, prompting whoops of delight from his teammates and good-natured grumblings from his opponents.

"Do you want to join them, Kirei?" A kind voice asked him, prompting the boy's head to turn to the source of the voice.

"Father?" The boy's voice was soft and serious as he blinked with confusion at the question. The elderly man standing at the door wore the black-colored cassock despite the heat, his shoulder-length silver hair damp and hanging limply around his austere face with sharp dark brown eyes. He chuckled at his cute little son's look of confounded incomprehension as he crossed the small room in order to ruffle his charge's hair. "It's all good and well of you to study, but don't forget to have fun once in a while, too." The priest chided the child, causing him to scrunch his nose in distaste. "But – " Kirei wanted to protest, only to find himself being pushed toward the exit none-too gently, while finding himself lacking his precious book. "Go out. Have fun. And don't let me see you here before the evening falls!"

And with that, one Kirei Kotomine found himself pushed out of his little sanctuary and prompted to do the activity that was completely alien to him.

Having a fun.

But… How does anyone _have_ fun, anyway?

Eye to eye with the newest dilemma, Kirei slowly trudged down the stairs, contemplating the newest riddle his crazy guardian threw at him.

* * *

The green-eyed, bespectacled boy stumbled onward, dragging behind him a suitcase that was almost as tall as he was, and at least three times as heavy. He was clad in dark red shorts and yellow T-shirt that was at least three sizes too big for his skinny frame, plodding onward in the too big pair of running shoes that used to belong to his cousin. Messy black hair stuck at odd angles from his head, looking even worse in the clogging heat that pervaded the air as he tried to follow the complaining trio consisting of a too fat, mustachioed man with ruddy face, a woman with a horse face that was screeching about her butter yellow dress being ruined from the climate and their piggy offspring with a blonde wig who complained about being hungry yet again, even if it had been barely five minutes since his last 'snack'. His horse-necked mother cooed at him, promising him yet another sweet if he would be good boy for just five minutes -

"Boy! Hurry up or no dinner for you!" The human walrus' voice bellowed, causing the boy to duck his head and attempting to hurry, only for him to lose his balance and begin to fall." Green eyes widening, the tiny boy resigned himself to getting more bruises and no more food for the day, when he felt someone grab the back of his shirt and yank him backward, causing to yelp as he was abruptly straightened out by the help of unknown Samaritan.

It took only a small moment when he turned back, but green eyes behind dirt-smeared lenses caught the dark grey orbs of the boy that was at least a head and a half taller than him. His savior let go off his yellow shirt and a moment later – the bespectacled boy had to blink – he vanished as if he wasn't ever there, leaving the messy-haired boy to the confusion on whether or not this really happened.

Harry James Potter was used to strange, freaky things happening around him. Maybe this was one of those, too. Shrugging, he began to drag the unreasonably big suitcase onward once again.

No rest for the freaks.

* * *

The dark grey eyes watched the strange group attentively, switching their focus from the rude foreigner to their bespectacled little helper.

He wasn't one of those do-gooders everywhere, but when he had seen the red and yellow clad little boy struggle with the enormous suitcase trip and about to lose his balance, his body just moved.

His hand had caught the soft, thin yellow fabric of the oversized shirt, yanking the kid back upright, before he made himself fade back in the crowd. Just like he had been taught.

Only - his eyes met the viridian orbs of the little boy - for this moment, he was paralyzed, causing something like lightning and warm sunlight roar through his veins.

Something clicked shut in his heart this precise moment - he didn't know what this something was yet, but it was something he instinctively knew to be infinitely precious.

Like those little kittens mama kitty was feeding behind their building. He had discovered the small litter and every evening managed to sneak some scrapes off his meagre portion to feed them… in secret, of course. Heaven knows that if they would be discovered, the tiny animals would've been used as a learning tool for the children on how to kill.

This little boy had green eyes - even greener than mama kitty and much greener than the leaves of trees. He had never seen such a rich color - rainbow came close, but its depth just wasn't the same.

Inhale. Exhale. Tomorrow would be another day.

Another chance.

With that in mind, the lanky boy vanished among the foliage of the trees, bounding back to the training quarters, his mind still on those green eyes.

* * *

 _Fun?_

How was one supposed to have fun?

Kirei was completely lost on the issue. Of course, there were kids playing with the ball, but he was utterly befuddled on how should he join them. He was always uncomfortable with children, mainly because he didn't spend many times in their company, and when he did it was when they participated at the mass or they had catechesis. Kirei was used to the children being calm, not the rambunctious balls of energy flying to and fro, giggling, laughing and shouting about some game like demented, kid-shaped meteors. He preferred the quiet and intelligent conversations, and the children were lacking at both accounts. Of course he remembered girls giggling at him, some even blushing for some weird reason and boys were just… boys.

He was just standing there, watching the ball roll and bounce from one pair of running dirty feet to the another.

It would be impolite to interrupt…

But how else to get into the game?

"Ah!"

A shout later - too-late - and Kirei felt something round, dusty and vaguely leather-y and hard hit his face, snapping it back and causing him to fall back on his back as the pain bloomed through his nose like a poisonous flower, further spreading across his face. On the pain's heels followed something slick sliding down his nostrils to his lips and crossing them, followed its trek down to his chin.

Slowly, he lifted his hand to assess the damage, wincing at the new, sharper spike of pain racing from his nose to his brain. His eyesight - Kirei blinked stupidly - was blurry for some reason.

The kids were silent, looking at the strange newcomer in spiffy and too clean clothes warily. Of course, right now, he was still sprawled on the ground, with his nose bleeding from the ball's impact with his face, his eyes tearing up from both shock and pain up as he looked at his hand, dirtied with the blood he had unknowingly swiped off his face.

"Oi. Ya alright?" The culprit stepped forward, his dark, glittering eyes concerned under the furrow of his eyebrows as he crouched beside the spiffy-clothed kid.

"Wad do ya dink?" Kirei warbled out, glaring at the sheepish boy beside himself as he tried to stand up, only to sway and almost fall back on his ass.

"Eh-heh… Sorry?" The messy-haired kid chuckled, rubbing the back of his hand sheepishly. "I really didn't mean ta. Honest!" His expression of a shamefaced puppy made the girls want to coo at him, but the victim was unmoved.

"Zure you din't." Kirei quipped back. "De ball juz got my bace by acciden'." The previously shamefaced puppy in human guise bristled.

"That was uncalled for!" The messy-haired boy glared. "Appo-glo-ize!" He demanded of the downed victim who returned a deadpan look back.

"Idz ab-bo-lo-gize." Kirei tensed as the messy-haired boy seemed ready to murder him this second. But this wasn't his fault, Kirei was just bad with making contact with kids! (And for some reason, he really liked to ruffle the ruffian's feathers.)

"Humph. " Instead, the boy sniffled and stood up, as he crossed his arms on his chest imperiously. "Heroes don't _appo-glo-ize._ There, I said it!" He looked almost comically superior for someone who had just accidentally floored a kid with one measly aimed ball.

"Brong." Finally, Kirei could stand up; relishing the boy's dropped jaw as he realized that his 'victim' had at least five inches of height over him, the self-proclaimed 'hero'.

Oh, that just wasn't fair.

Lively dark eyes narrowed into twin pissed-off slits. "Then ya do it if ya are _soo_ very smart." He jeered and Kirei felt an irrational (-and all too familiar, something in sub consciousness whispered gleefully, before he choked its tiny voice down-) feeling of wanting to hurt the little gnat.

But it wouldn't be fair, what with Kirei's knowledge of _baijiquan_ , and Father Risei would be rather furious with him if he mauled the idiot just because of one measly ball.

Still - one hit wouldn't hurt, surely? Plastering a pleasant smile on his face – because it was always the best thing when opponents didn't know they had it coming - he clenched his right hand in preparation to punch some divine retribution into the thick skull of the heathen in front of him.

But before he could raise his arm, his wrist was caught in a grip of a small hand, causing him to look to his side, while his face automatically blanked out.

It was a small kid, clad in the ensemble of sunny yellow shirt and bright red shorts, for some reason reminding Kirei of the circus tents he had once seen, what with how loose the clothes were on the kid. Green eyes were hidden behind those bottleneck thick glasses and messy black hair was plastered to his forehead with some of the bangs sticking up from his head in weird angles.

The kid looked scared, but he still firmly shook his head, before attempting to tug Kirei away from the confrontation with the rude little urchin who called himself a hero.

Brown eyes blinked with confusion at the feeling that small tug caused within him. He knew he could've broken the fragile grip easily – just a fraction of his strength, and the small interloper would've been unceremoniously rolled into the dust.

Instead, he allowed the tug to lead him away and to where the small one was leading him, disregarding a rather rude jeer the 'hero' threw in his direction.

He was led into the shade of the nearby forest, with the kid motioning him to wait here, before he stumbled away, leaving him to sit down and lean his back against the tree's trunk. It would be pointless to go back to his room, and he didn't want to play or _'have fun' l_ ike the other kids did at the moment.

Brown eyes were watching the football game resuming, with the messy-haired 'hero' once again leading one of the teams, loud and messy and serving no other purpose than mindlessly running after the makeshift ball in order to get it into one or the other of the two improvised goals.

He exhaled through nose and winced at the flare of pain the action caused, only for his attention to be diverted by a hesitant tap on his shoulder. Carefully, Kirei turned his head, blinking as he saw the same red and yellow clad boy, only this time he had in his hands a wet piece of fabric.

A small work-calloused hand gently pressed his head back and then the boy carefully began to dab the blood away, the feather light touches causing Kirei to lightly lean into the caresses, disregarding the previously cool moisture steadily becoming sickeningly warm by his skin. Previously sky blue cloth was now blooming with the smudged blotches of red and Kirei scented the iron of his blood and the boy's own unique scent of grass and furniture polish that overlapped with the underlying fragrance of ripened apples. Fresh, juicy and just sour and sweet enough to tingle ones own tongue when they bit in its succulent meat.

He didn't know when, but Kirei's eyes slid down to a half-mast, barely staying open enough to see his unusual attendee as he lost himself in the fragrance of iron and apples. The boy didn't speak the whole time he was taking care of the wound, leaving them to bask in a comfortable silence. When the boy finished his self-appointed task, he made a move to get away, only for Kirei's hand to shot out and tug him down beside him, causing him to yelp slightly. Kirei didn't relent. Instead, he held onto the small one, keeping the fragile wrist in a firm hold, firm enough for his captive not to flee and yet loose enough not to cause bruises.

Green eyes behind those bottle lenses glared at him before the boy huffed in resignation and settled on Kirei's right side, unconsciously leaning against him and causing Kirei to feel a small spot of warmth in his hollow heart.

It wasn't the sickly sweet heat that pervaded the air, but more like something tiny, an ember in the hearth, waiting to be prodded into a bonfire to warm up someone in the bitterly cold winter day. Kirei didn't know why it happened only now, and why him - those questions could wait for another time. But for now, he would have fun his own way, sitting in the tree shade and feeling the heartbeat of the strange boy he didn't know the name of ( _yet,_ ) under his fingertips.

* * *

Kiritsugu frowned as he trudged back to the room his father had rented for the month.

It just wasn't fair.

He didn't know why, but it irked him to see that the snobby church boy snagged the tiny one for himself. The small boy in question was clad in oversized clothes of red and yellow, almost drowning in the fabric, with wild back hair poking around his head and the bottle glasses sitting askew on his nose.

Definitely not a cool kid, and to top it all off, he didn't even speak!

So it was a wonder how did he stop that stuffy jerk with only his touch, and what was more, the jerk in question actually allowed himself to be stopped that way, even going so far as to letting himself being lead under the nearest shade and tended to, as if he were some kind of a royalty!

Bah! It wasn't important! Kiritsugu huffed, turning his attention back to the game, but something in the back of his brain nagged insistently, flaring all kinds of ugly when he spotted the two cuddling together underneath the feeble shade of the nearby tree.

From then on, despite his best efforts, the game kinda lost its' flair for Kiritsugu.

The dark-haired, black-eyed boy frowned with discontent. He was a hero, so he didn't need anybody… Right?

Especially not one dorky glasses-wearing boy in silly flappy clothes.

But something within - a tiny kernel on the very bottom of his heart - knew otherwise.

* * *

Dudley Dursley was an ordinary boy, who was extraordinarily spoiled by his parents. This little adventure, however, didn't agree with him - everything was too hot, too dusty and his Nintendo had broken last night when he had thrown it on the ground when he did a temper tantrum because there were no sweets like he was used to in the room his parents had rented for the night.

For some reason, this 'wild adventure', as it was advertised the media and romanticized through the neighborhood gossips of the Privet Drive, Surrey, was shaping to be less than exciting. Mosquitoes, the unbearable heat, and to Dudley's horror, no electricity and no potato chips or sweets. His dad was trying, and even gave him a pep talk of becoming a man through this little trial, but Dudley didn't care for that - he wanted his soft bed, his friends, his ice cream and his games back! It didn't help that the kids everywhere didn't want to play with him for some reason - and even worse, they chattered in some other language, like the monkeys in a zoo he had once visited for his birthday.

But at least there was a freak to alleviate his boredom a little. And the best thing was, freak didn't have anywhere to hide, because otherwise he would be left behind and eaten by the jungle monsters. Dudley's overly pudgy face widened in a malicious smirk when he imagined the scene when some wild tiger would maul the freak who would then cry and beg for mercy and Dudley would laugh and call him all the mean names the freak deserved.

Because he was a freak. As simple as that.

* * *

This morning the Dursley family had received an unwelcome news that the jeep they had ordered to pick them up today had malfunctioned and they were to be stranded in that dinky little village for a week before they would be able to move forward to their destination. This prompted a whole new lot of grumbling and complaints from the esteemed Dursley family, with one Vernon Dursley purpling a dangerous shade of red before he marginally calmed down - they were in the presence of a priest, after all - and one Petunia Dursley nearly fainted at the thought of having to endure another seven days in dirt, heat and bacteria of the small village they were currently residing in. And oh the horrors, of her little Duddykins having to be forced to eat the bland, nourishment-poor excuse for a food the locals were serving to them!

(For Harry, the small bowl of the rice soup he had been served for a breakfast was almost divine, what with the spices and the rich taste of chicken - he even got a chicken wing under the rice, he was truly lucky that morning, never mind the fact the Dursleys had been served both soup, a whole chicken and a pair of mangoes with some other fruit Harry had never seen before in his life.)

Truly, this adventuring trip was shaping to be one of the worst experiences in the young Dudley's life. Especially because the mellow coolness of the morning quickly began to fled in the wake of the days' heat wave. Grumbling, Dudley looked at the boy sitting beside the priest his Dad was talking to.

The boy in question was… pretty. Blank-faced, like a doll, with slightly messy brown hair and equally brown eyes, clad in the white short-sleeved shirt with dark blue shorts he was sitting beside his guardian like a statue, having already eaten his share of the food, while Dudley was still munching on the part of the chicken breast him mum has given him from her plate.

Of course, his mum had cooed at the doll-face, which made Dudley scoff - the guy was too girly for his own good – but when she offered Dudley as his teammate, Dudley agreed, because having at least one playmate was better than nothing. The freak didn't count.

"Hey wanna go play?" He asked the boy, smiling his most mischievous grin which his mum insisted was pretty much irresistible.

Only for the boy - Kirei or something – to look at him and Dudley almost blushed because damn, the guy was pretty, what with his long eyelashes and eyes like chocolate, along with pretty pink lips –

"Sorry. I still have to pray to God. Maybe later." The pretty boy answered, making Dudley blink with bewilderment and Petunia coo with how adorable he was.

"Oh, that's so _cute_!" She squealed, clasping her hands in delight. "You wouldn't mind if our Dudley joins, would you?"

Dudley eyed his mum incredulously. Was she daft or what? Praying when it wasn't Sunday? Dudley wasn't big on praying or Sunday masses - he went into the church because he had to, and Christmas we awesome because then he got many gifts while freak got nothing, but otherwise, Dursley junior didn't see any sense in praying to something that wasn't seen, heard or felt and still demanded of him to apologize for whatever sin he had done that week.

"Of course he can! What about the young man here?" The priest asked good-naturedly as he smiled at the freak, causing Dudley to automatically scowl.

"Oh. Of course, Harry can join too. Won't you, Harry?" Petunia's sickly-sweet smile betrayed just how discomforted was with the notion of leaving two innocent boys with the freak, but she would be a greater person and maybe that kind little Kirei boy would teach him that freakishness was a no-no.

Dudley only made a face.

* * *

Harry couldn't believe his luck. Or better, the lack of it. Just when he had thought that there would be something good, Aunt Petunia just had to go and ruin it… again.

Not that it was her fault. Really. Oh, okay, it was kind of her fault. Because three little boys bonding over doing the morning prayers to God was just her absolutely _worst_ idea ever. Harry didn't know why had she thought this activity would made them buddies - Dudley absolutely loathed religious praying of any kind, and Harry, while knowing how to pray, didn't really put a lot of stock in it, because if God really existed, then he surely hated Harry because Harry was a freak, and God hated freaks, like the Bible said.

Biting his lips, he ducked his head, fearing the moment Dudley would tell Kirei that Harry was a freak, and then Kirei would leave too. Because freaks didn't deserve someone as good as Kirei was.

"Come?" Green eyes behind the bottle glasses blinked as his musings were interrupted by the subject of his thought.

"Y-Yeah." He whispered his cheeks heating as he timidly clutched the offered palm, prompting Kirei to pull him up from his sitting position.

Something in those dark brown eyes glinted, before they dulled in their usual blank stare.

* * *

 _Harry._ The boy's name was Harry.

This time, Kirei's mind was divided between praying to God and munching on this little fact. The overly pudgy – and that was saying it kindly - kid - Dudley or something - was not important, though it did raise Kirei's alarm when he noted the unrestricted hostility in the blond boy's eyes at the sight of his tiny, messy-haired cousin.

 _"Our Father which art in heaven,_  
 _Hallowed be thy name._  
 _Thy kingdom come."_

His lips were speaking the hallowed prayer with the same care as usual, but something in it was different.

 _"Thy will be done in earth,_  
 _as it is in heaven._  
 _Give us this day our daily bread."_

The small, susurrating voice that joined his, was more like wind whispering across the tree's leaves than an actual voice, but Kirei's sharp ears still caught it and committed it to his memory. Without looking, he felt the small boy kneeling at his right side, clasping his hands together and bowing his head, as if he weren't worthy to look up to even a simple cross.

 _"And forgive us our trespasses,_  
 _as we forgive those_  
 _who trespass against us."_

The golden pig's peeved, whiny voice petulantly disturbed the silent tranquility like a rock thrown into a priceless stained glass window, casing Kirei's eyebrow to twitch with irritation.

 _'Calm. Be calm, my son. They know not what they are doing.'_ Risei's voice floated in his mind, stalling his violent inclinations.

So he took a breath and began again.

 _"And lead us not into temptation,_  
 _but deliver us from evil."_

If this was temptation, he thought sourly, then it was one of the sorest ones. Like a thorn in the wanderer's heel, one cannot but stop and pull it out to lessen the pain and irritation.

Would it really be evil to stop this charade and tell the pig that he wasn't welcome here?

Sure, it wouldn't be exactly polite, but _evil?_

 _"For thine is the kingdom,_  
 _and the power, and the glory,"_

Harry's voice was a balsam to his ears, and Kirei concentrated solely to that gentle sound, the tiny inhales and exhales, the pauses and inflections of the spoken words, stumbling as they were.

 _"-forever and ever._  
 _Amen."_

The three of them concluded, making for an interesting sight, Kirei being all prim and proper kneeling in the middle, with Harry on his right side, clad in garish red and blue this time, and baggy as always, while on Kirei's left side, the overly chubby kid fidgeted in a purple and black ensemble of short-sleeved shirt and shorts, obviously uncomfortable with kneeling on the bare ground.

"Are we done yet?" Dudley immediately complained, flopping on the ground and huffily massaging his knees.

Kirei looked at him. "Of course not. We have to pray a rosary too."

"I don't wanna!" Dudley growled out, peeved as he pursed his lips in an approximation of a pout.

"You don't need to. But it's a part of my morning prayers." Kirei replied back calmly. Harry was quiet, still silhouette on his right, not saying anything, but Kirei was acutely aware of his presence for some reason. Dudley's face fell and he wrinkled his nose with distaste.

"But can't we just skip it and go play?" Dudley beseeched. "Just this once?"

"Once is one time too many." Kirei's flat reply was unyielding, causing Dudley to scoff and scramble on his feet. "Fine! Babble away, if you want!" He spat out and waddled out of the room, the fat around his body jiggling with the each step he took. "See if I care!"

"You don't." Kirei quipped back, blinking as he heard a muffled giggle on his side.

Harry laughed. The quiet boy honest to God giggled, even if he bit his lips to muffle the happy sound when Kirei looked at him. "Sorry." He whispered, ducking his head in embarrassment, his pale cheeks flushed pink.

Kirei blinked. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Want to pray?" He offered awkwardly, confused at the warmth that seemingly grew in his heart as the small boy raised his head and sent him a shy smile.

"Can we?"

Kirei could only nod mutely before pulling a simple black rosary out of his trouser pocket. "Of course."

And the two boys' voices intertwined together in the next circle of prayers in the stillness of the morning.

* * *

This was... awkward. After they finished the prayers, the boys were at a loss what to do next. Kirei because his favorite book was still confiscated by Father Risei, and Harry because he, for once, wasn't Dudley's unwilling playmate, and he didn't exactly know how to play. Neither of them wanted to stick in the small room. Kirei had assured Harry that it was impossible, what with Father Risei's idea of _'fun'_ and Harry doubted that Dursleys would have allowed him to stay at the same place for so long without exacting some sort of retribution on his person later on. He was lucky as it were that he didn't have to do his usual amount of chores he had been tasked to do at Privet Drive.

Neither of them had any wish to play with the other kids, so the only other option that remained was… the forest.

It had been a dumb idea, what with both of them being in an unfamiliar place, but Kirei had assured his hesitant playmate that everything would be alright and besides, it was way better option that staying on the one place and being harassed by either of their guardians.

They had successfully sneaked out, with Kirei snatching two mangoes for them to snack on later, while Harry had filled a bottle with water for them to quench their thirst. And with that, the intrepid duo was ready for the next adventure.

The forest here was not so different from the ones at home, aside from an occasional chirp and cheep above their heads. The dried leaves rustled under their feet as they were walking among the trees slowly, taking care not to tumble down the steep hills or trip under the concealed stump. They didn't talk much, as they didn't know what they would want to talk about. Instead of that, their talk was in the shape of eye contact, linked hands and helping each other across the occasional troublesome trunk or root that laid on their path.

They finally came to a small clearing with a small brook babbling by.

Harry gratefully plopped on the ground, while Kirei leaned on the nearby three trunk, both boys panting with heat and exertion.

"So what now?" Kirei asked as he looked at his messy companion. Harry just shrugged, looking at him helplessly. For some reason the smaller boy didn't talk much and aside for speaking the prayers Kirei had yet to hear him speak in an ordinary situation.

"Tell me about yourself?" The same whispery voice came out, prompting Kirei to blink.

"What about me?" He asked, bewildered. He didn't think that anything he knew would be a good topic of conversation, and for some reason, he wanted to do a good impression on the small boy in front of him.

"What you like. Dislike. And do." Harry explained, nibbling his lower lip while his fingers unconsciously began smoothing out the strand of the grass between his fingers. Involuntarily, Kirei remembered the boy's small, but already roughened hands, a complete opposition to his smooth ones.

"I am Kirei. I like to read Bible and learn. I dislike not knowing why I don't want to be beautiful like Father Risei wants me to be." He spoke out, immediately clamming down after he had spoken the last sentence. Of course he was weird and Harry would laugh at him and –

"Why?" Instead, his little companion asked, the glasses glinting in the daylight slightly.

"I… don't know. I just do." Kirei hesitated. "Am I wrong? For thinking that?"

Harry tilted his head. "Why? You are your own person." The bespectacled eyes blinked, confused. "Why should you have the same opinions than somebody else?"

It was like ice-cold thunderbolt cracking down his spine.

Kirei stared at the tiny waif beside him, dumbfounded.

 _'Why should you have the same opinions than somebody else?'_

Really, _why?_

"But… I don't understand. How can I be beautiful if I don't have the same opinion as Father?" Kirei's voice was lost as he implored for answer.

Harry tilted his head.

"Aren't there many kinds of beauty?" He volleyed back, waving at the spider lily beside himself. "This flower has different kind of a beauty than for example…" He looked around, before his eyes lightened out "This!" He pointed at the waterfall of tiny white and blue and purple flowers cascading from the nearby tree down to the ground.

Kirei blinked.

Harry bit his lip, embarrassed at his little outburst. He felt his cheeks burning with mortification. Ducking his head, he tried to hurriedly explain his reasoning once again. "Someone once told me, that all beautiful things have their dark, ugly side. " He began slowly, unconsciously nibbling his lower lip, worried that Kirei would misunderstand his words. "And that even the ugliest things have something beautiful within." Shy green eyes looked back into the blank brown ones. "If you are unsatisfied with his definition of beauty, why don't you find your own?"

Closing his eyes, Kirei pondered the question.

Yes, why not? What actually held him back from not forming his own opinions on the issue? Like Harry had said, there were different kinds of beauty. Even ugly things…like Kirei himself... could be beautiful.

"You don't mind?" For some reason, Kirei felt compelled to ask the green eyed boy, as if his answer was needed to validate his exploration in the unknown.

He was gifted with a small smile. "No. If the people thought the same all the time, the world would be a very boring place."

Kirei found himself looking at the small waif in awe. He had been struggling with this question for so long, trying to be the kind of beautiful that his Father had thought - expected - him to be, but this little boy just accepted him like he was.

Smiled at him like it was no big thing, even with his cheeks still dusted with the flush of embarrassment and looking like he wanted to bolt at any given moment, as if instead of solving Kirei's little dilemma, he had somehow managed to mortally offend him.

In that moment, something deep within had clicked from its previous _wrong_ position to _right_ one, as if his little companion had managed to pull some kind of hidden lever Kirei himself couldn't, and in the process gift him with the warmth Kirei didn't know he missed until it flooded his chest cavity and continued to flow through it to the farthest parts of his body until he felt he was enveloped in a cocoon of warmth.

"Hey." Green eyes looked at his own brown orbs questioningly, and Kirei felt the warmth spear through his body again. Impulsively, he reached forward, offering the boy his own hand. "We haven't been introduced yet. My name is Kotomine Kirei and I would like to be your friend." _He would be his first friend, actually._

He held his breath as those green eyes grew even bigger behind those bottle glasses, his heart skipping a beat.

If Harry rejected him, then this wonderful warmth would disappear, leaving him even hollower than before –

But the small, calloused hand found his own, and Kirei's brain flash-catalogued the tiny scratches and thickened pads, marking it so different from his ow long-fingered and smooth one, committing it to the memory to never, ever forget it –

A small, shy smile and Kirei's temporarily anticipation-suspended heart leapt onward in a huge leap, as if it wanted to get out of his chest and hole itself in the other boy's ribcage, right beside his own when the bespectacled boy introduced himself.

"I am Harry. And I would like that very much."

From the corner of his eye, Kirei saw golden and violet shaded thread mix with the most beautiful orange one in a beautiful, unbreakable ribbon tied to their pinky fingers.

The warmth in his chest multiplied, and maybe it was alright if he didn't have his own heart anymore, if he had that beautiful, wholesome warmth nestling in its place.

Harry's awed gaze mutely stated the same.

* * *

Above them, dark grey eyes narrowed in confusion and discontent. It was strange thing, to see the boy he had helped a day before getting so friendly with that socially awkward son of a priest.

 _It should have been him that should be down here and bask in the little boy's attentions to his person._

He shook his head.

This was absurd. Why should he care for some strange waif that was obviously here only for a short time and he may have not meet him again once his family departs from the village?

He didn't even know just why he had helped the little one when he and his family arrived in the village.

Any other person and he would have left them to flop ungracefully in the dust.

But when he looked down at the little one struggling with the heavy load he had been ordered to cart around that kind of action just didn't sit well with him.

His body moved before he even knew what was happening.

Late in the night, when everyone was sleeping, the sleep eluded him.

Those green eyes intrigued him.

No - if he had been honest with himself, the feelings that those green eyes evoked within him were more concerning.

Being trained as an assassin meant that they were also taught how to shut down the emotions - he had seen kids cry and scream, some even threw up when they had to do their first kill, which was a natural reaction, considering the first kill was always a small animal they were taking care of for an extended period of time. After that, they shut themselves down for a time, and even if they came back, smiling, laughing and playing, in the back of their eyes, there was now a kind of a cold distance. Even if they adored playing with kittens, they wouldn't have any reserves to choke the tiny animals if the order was given in the midst of the game.

This boy was like a kitten - tiny, scruffy, all big green eyes and innocent. All too easy to kill. It wouldn't take much from him - to choke him, until he stopped breathing, or to slice his throat or to push him off the nearby cliff, or break his ribs and leave him suffocating in his own blood.

He was a weakness.

Assassins didn't have weaknesses. If they did, they were _dead_ assassins.

And Soichiro was one of the best, slated, if the rumors were to be believed, to inherit the mantle of the leader of the sect.

He should have killed the boy. He was helpless now, an easy target, and the priest's boy could be exterminated just as easily.

He jumped.

* * *

Kerry huffed and puffed with disgruntlement. He had been traipsing through the forest in an attempt to find something to alleviate his boredom. Football was all good and well, but the game could hold his attention only for so long.

He didn't see that rude little bastard either, but he spotted his bespectacled little helper sneaking out of the house and head toward the forest.

And Kerry's interest was piqued.

His mood soured when he saw that bastard holding the boy's hand when they sneaked into the forest.

It just wasn't fair. He didn't know why it wasn't, but Kerry just knew it. The heat made the messy-haired child's mood even worse, causing him to frown rather grumpily.

He followed them in the forest as stealthily as he could, pouting all the way.

This was not what the heroes were supposed to be doing!

He came to the small meadow just in time to see the bastard look at the small green-eyed boy with the stupidest expression ever - dopey, blushing and like nothing else aside him mattered.

 _Ick._ Kerry bravely resisted the urge to gag. It was just like in those romance movies his occasional nanny had watched, minus the obsessive kissing and declarations of love for ever and ever.

But something in Kerry's gut twisted uncomfortably. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he recognized that this preppy little …snot shouldn't be so familiar with the little one. It should have been him talking with the boy, never mind his pitiful knowledge of that strange English language. It should have been him that the boy should smile at and Kerry should be the one to play with him!

There was a shadow above the duo, and it only took a time for Kerry to blink for it to descend on the duo like some kind of a prey, and then, Kerry was _moving_. Until now, he never felt the need to access the power he had been born with – he much preferred his carefree life, and dreaming about being a hero someday.

* * *

One moment, Kirei had the strangest feeling of synchronicity between him and Harry, and in the next instance, there was a dark shadow pouncing down on Harry, intent on killing him.

It took a slice of the second for him to snatch Harry by his wrist toward him and behind his back when he prepared himself to deliver a lethal response to the assailant.

His instincts screamed the warning and the bond between the two of them immediately felt unbearably hot, but then, the strange shadow was toppled down on the dusty ground via one seething, messy-haired kid that glared at the culprit venomously, while he kneed him in the small of his back painfully, knocking the momentum out of their attacker.

"You really shouldn't attack innocent people." Kerry growled out. He clutched his hands on the taller boy's back into unyielding fists, full of fabric, and then, his world shifted.

Yelping, he was now the one to be tumbled down into the ground, barely avoiding the strike that would have done more than just bloodied his nose.

Kirei didn't stay still either - as soon as the older boy shook off his unexpected burden into the dirt, he strode forward, swinging his own leg at the attacker's head.

The kick didn't connect- instead, it was swept aside, as if it didn't even matter, but Kirei was undeterred, immediately launching the offensive of fast kicks and punches, forcing the other boy to go on the defensive with dodging and occasional blocking of the hits.

Now the both of them, including Harry, saw the attacker.

It was a boy, a head and a half taller than them, lanky and clad in drab grey cotton trousers with sleeveless shirt that was loose on his slender frame, giving him an ample room for movements. He was barefoot and with short cropped black hair, with calculating grey eyes flickering from one person to another, but neither Kirei nor Kerry overlooked the minute fact that his eyes seemed to linger on the green-eyed boy the most.

"Why are you attacking us?" Kirei's question turned the attacker's attention from the green-eyed waif to him, and for some inexplicable reason, Kirei felt very satisfied with the result.

As long as this stranger's attention would be on him, then his new friend was safe.

"He is a liability." The answer came in Japanese, making both Kirei and Kerry glare, but Harry eyed the stranger with innocent, if hurt confusion in his eyes.

"That doesn't mean you had to attack him! He didn't do anything to you!" Kerry burst out as he hurled forward, intent on kicking the taller boy in the stomach, only to fail as his hit was deflected, causing him to sail through the air as his opponent used his momentum to both deflect his kick and pile-drive him into the dirt once more.

Gray eyes flickered to the trembling form, clad in too-big clothed on the side momentarily, before they diverted back to Kirei, catching the boy's fist into his own palm, and just in a moment, he would deliver the hit that would rupture the boy's spleen -

"He exists."

Never before had Kerry's blood boiled like this. Of course, he had seen his fair share of injustice in the world ( _and he would fix all of them someday_ ,) but this, this was something so very wrong he couldn't find any words to express just how wrong it was.

Nobody deserved to be killed just because they existed!

Clenching his teeth, he ignored the fiery pit of inferno in his gut as he prepared to kick the back of the bastards' legs in retaliation.

"STOP!"

The single shout froze all three of the combatants in their tracks, causing them to look at the cause of their dispute.

* * *

Harry was not a happy camper. The brawl had happened out of the blue, with the three speaking in that foreign language and leaving him behind. Usually, he would have fled from the brawl, but with his friend being involved in it, there was no way in heaven or hell anyone could convince him to just leave right now.

And so, he clenched his hands, disregarded his heart's will to just flee and survive (it was hammering in his ears like some kind of a crazed drum,), straightened out his tiny form in the most intimidating posture he knew (it wasn't much, but it would have to do), and shouted, hoping against hope the three of them would listen to him.

"STOP!"

He never screamed. His voice was too weak for it and besides, Dursleys didn't like the loud sounds if they weren't their makers. It had resulted in Harry being particularly quiet individual who never raised his voice to the shouting level.

As a consequence, his vocal cords didn't take kindly to that kind of abuse, causing Harry to feel as if he had taken a very serrated see-saw to his throat as he promptly choked on both the unpleasant sensation, feeling something wet forcing itself up to his mouth.

But at least the three of them stopped, Harry noted grimly as a trickle of blood managed to slip from the left corner of his mouth.

Three wide sets of eyes zeroed on the tiny trail that beaded itself like a small ruby and then attempted to slide down the pallid skin, only for Harry to wipe it away hurriedly, ashamed of his weakness as he hunched into himself.

All three of the boys reached for him, causing the bespectacled waif to flinch and prompting their movements to freeze.

"Harry?"

Kirei asked tentatively, his blank eyes wide and vulnerable, but Harry wasn't looking at them, but to his side as he wrung his hands nervously.

"Please… s-stop it." He managed to choke it out, unintentionally letting the small amount of crimson liquid escape past his lower lip as he clutched to his throat. " _O-Onegai shimashou."_

The broken Japanese phrase could as well be a whip, with what how the wild-haired boy and the gray-eyed one flinched away from him.

"S-Sorry!" the wild-haired one squeaked, scrambling away from his opponent, his dark eyes huge and vulnerable as he bit his lips. "I – We didn't mean to…" He trailed off, embarrassed and uncomfortable as he shifted from the foot to foot, barely holding himself back from checking the bespectacled boy for himself. Awkwardly, he rummaged through his shorts and with a small sound of triumph, pulled out a blue and white-checkered tissue which he thrust to Harry with a sheepish expression on his face, heedless of Kirei's glare at his person.

"Are you sick?" Kirei's question caused Harry to blink with confusion, as he gratefully accepted the tissue, shooting the messy-haired troublemaker a small, grateful smile. He shook his head slowly. "Just not u-used to shouting." He offered, a tentative smile on his lips more of a grimace than anything else.

The tall boy made a jerking motion, causing both Kirei and his messy-haired ally to glare at him harshly. Frowning slightly, gray eyes looked into glasses covered ones as he spoke for the second time, this time in English.

"Help you." Kirei immediately bristled. There was no way in heaven and hell he would allow someone who was intent to kill his heart to help!

"No." He bit out. "You wanted to kill him. You don't get to help him. What gives that you won't change your mind and kill him for real?"

* * *

Soichiro couldn't help but wince at the accusation that came from the priest's boy. It was true. He would have killed the boy without any regrets, but that was… _before._

Before he heard that voice.

Before those unusual green eyes glared at him through those bottle glasses.

Before there was a blood on those all too pale lips.

Before the little one flinched away from him as if Soichiro would kick the shit out of him just because he existed, causing him to feel like lowest scum on the Earth.

Children should never, ever be scared, especially not this little one.

Never mind that this particular child was his weakness whom he should have eliminated with extreme prejudice instead of woolgathering time in the fight against the child's unintentional protectors.

"Help you? Please?" He tried again, hoping against hope that his eyes would express his regret and sincerity of his offer.

He watched greedily, as the small one bit his lip uncertainly, green eyes perusing him as he deliberated the right course of action. The smell of blood wafted in the air, iron and copper, sickeningly familiar and causing Soichiro to gulp with trepidation.

He held out his hand in supplication, showing that he was unarmed (not that it meant much), and that he was willing to do anything to take care of the little one.

He felt a movement when the wild child made a movement to knock his outstretched arm away - because he wasn't worthy - but to his surprise, the priest child stopped him. The wind rustled in the tree branches, causing them to sway carelessly and throw their light and shadows on the forest floor in a complicated, ever changing dance.

Slowly, hesitantly, a small hand reached out to his, placing the fragile, work-roughened palm into his own, weapon-callused one and Kuzuki Soichiro smiled.

* * *

Kerry looked at the scene in front of him mulishly. Harry, as he found out the small boy's name was, was too soft-hearted for his own good. Even knowing that the taller boy wanted to kill him, he trusted him.

But Kerry was no fool. No matter how sincere the tall one's - and wasn't that a kick, to be the second shortest in the group – intentions were, sooner than later, he would try and attempt to kill Harry once again.

But this time, Kerry would be prepared. He scowled at the random aches and bruises that throbbed with pain, causing him to shift uncomfortably from his sitting position. He crossed his arms on his chest mulishly as he kept a sharp eye on the duo.

The assassin was preparing some kind of a paste from the violet flowers and leaves in an improvised leaf-made bowl, while the priest boy was doing some kind of a glowing mojo on Harry's throat.

The glow emitting from his hand was soft whitish blue color and Kerry supposed he should have been impressed the bastard managed to use such a technique - healing with mana was a tough business, after all, but all he felt was contempt and resentment with a grudging smidge of unwilling respect.

He was still an uppity, know-it-all berk. Kerry scoffed.

The preach boy finally managed to finish his portion, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. The taller boy finished his portion, too, approaching the duo with the leaf-bowl in his hands. The paste, Kerry noted, was an unappetizing gray mush, causing him to shoot a suspicious look at its maker.

"Take it. The taste may not be the best, but it should help with the soreness and inflammation." The grey-eyed boy spoke out as he offered it to the green-eyed boy smoothly, patiently waiting for the preach boy to translate.

"How can we know it's like you said it is?" Kerry snapped out as he bounced up on the soles of his feet, suppressing a wince when his body protested at the sudden movement sharply. The assassin's gray eyes swiveled to him, cold and hard as granite, but Kerry wouldn't be cowed. Not when lives were at stake. That was what heroes did, after all.

"Taste it, then." The assassin snapped, offering Kerry the mulch and causing him to blanch, but Kerry was a hero, so he bravely stuck a pointer finger in the mass and then carried it to his mouth.

 _"Blech – !"_ He gagged, as he stuck his tongue out comically. The freaking thing was so - _so disgusting_ and tingly and _gross_ he couldn't even describe it in words!

"Mah tongue ifs gettin' numb. _Grooosss!_ " He managed to lisp out, causing the assassin smirk at him and Harry grinned with amusement, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

Kerry felt his cheeks and tips of his ears getting warm, and this didn't have any connection to the weather.

 _Oh._

His heart felt warm, too.

 _Oh no._

Hurriedly, he turned around, as to not let the other two look at his face, but it was already too late.

He was _blushing!_

In an effort to preserve his dignity, he scrambled to the small brook. Maybe some water would get that disgustingly gross taste off his tongue.

* * *

Thoroughly confused and a little bit entertained, Harry watched the messy-haired boy blush a cherry pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears before he hurriedly took off in the search of water to the nearby brook.

He apprehensively turned his gaze to the confirmed disgusting grey mass in the leaf before he scooped a small amount of it on his pointer and middle fingers.

The thing was lukewarm and – Harry grimaced - appropriately gross. It caused his tongue to tingle and involuntarily twitch in the protest of the horrible taste, but when he swallowed it down, he immediately felt the blessed, refreshing coolness settle within his throat. Encouraged, he scooped another bite and continued one after another, until his tongue was thoroughly numb and the leaf clean of the paste, offering a small, shy smile to the gray-eyed boy when he finished.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the messy-haired boy approach them again, dark eyes glaring at the maker of the foul medicine before he plopped down beside him carelessly.

"No killing anyone here, yeah?" He offered, with a bright grin on his lips. Harry felt the grin would not be amiss on the white shark's face, so toothy it was, and just as threatening. Even if the dark-eyed boy couldn't compete with the other two in martial arts, he was fast enough to do at least some damage, and with the way he positioned himself - a little bit ahead Harry - guaranteed that if the gray-eyed assassin tried anything, he would have to go through him first. "Me. I am Emiya Kerry." He addressed Harry when he spoke his name, prompting Harry to nod in assent and offer him a small smile. "You two are?"

"Kotomine Kirei." Kirei spoke next, brown eyes zeroed on the assassin in front of them steadfastly, but Harry didn't begrudge him. He felt the bond between them twist and wriggle in anxious loops that made his tummy feel a little bit seasick.

"Kuzuki Soichiro." The assassin finally offered his name, ducking his head slightly. "Sorry for before." He offered, his shoulders sloped in the way Harry felt denoted an apology. He didn't really know how he knew that, but he just… _knew._

He opened his mouth and made a soundless hacking sound.

"No speaking yet. It will wear off in half an hour." Soichiro offered as he gazed at Harry with those strange steel grey eyes. Harry shot his a disgruntled glare, causing the assassin's mouth to twitch with amusement.

"He is Harry." Kirei spoke out. "And he is my best friend."

The glares Kirei received from both Kerry and Soichiro caused Harry to want to be far, far away from the trio.

He had a feeling that World War III would be appropriate title for what would be going between the three of them very, very soon.

… Especially when Kerry added something very uncomplimentary in Japanese as he addressed Kirei, causing the priest boy to clench his fists with murderous intent.

Unknowingly to the three of them, this was the beginning of a very strange friendship between people who would, in ordinary circumstances, be each others' most bitter enemies.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any of the four puppies that served as an inspiration.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I don't know whether to laugh, cry or sulk. It seems that some of you are scarily insightful, but dear me, no dice. But at least you got _half_ the dice, considering your guesswork of which assassin got which Element under their belt, so to speak. Some of it will be revealed in this chapter. As for next one, it will be posted next week on Tuesday, my time. I self-beta this, so this is one of the reasons the chapters will be slow in coming for this story.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU** _ on multiple scales, time jump, and not everything is what it seems to be.

* * *

 _A million roads, a million fears  
A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty  
I could speak a million lies, a million songs,  
A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time_

 _('A Thousand Years' by Sting)_

* * *

If you were Harry Potter, then your life inevitably sucked. Of course, there were grand adventures each year without fail, ever since he had been accepted into that magic school, but the pitfalls were mortal danger at every corner, his name being dragged through the month every few months, whether or not he was guilty of the things they were accusing him of, and his friends were of a wishy-washy sort that didn't really support him.

It didn't help that ever since some time long ago, something was gnawing in his chest cavity, dark, cold, hollow and alone. Hermione and the twins had filled the gap a little, but they were small, desperately flickering candles in the vastness of the starless space. Ron wasn't really his friend - Harry could speak with him about chess and Quidditch and food, but they simply didn't _click._ The fourth year also broke that particular camel's back irreparably - if Harry held onto his illusions of Ron being an understanding, decent sort of person, they were dashed the moment his so called ' _best mate_ ' accused him of being a glory hog and selfishly entering the Triwizard Tournament, leaving poor, widdle Ronnie behind.

His headaches were also becoming steadily stronger - strong enough that even the strongest potions he had swiped from Madam Pomfrey failed to quell the inferno in his skull.

He couldn't even hold food down in his stomach. Every time he tried his innards rebelled with a surprising force, forcing him into drinking copious amounts of water in hopes to quell the searing heat within his skull. However, it didn't help a whit - even if the liquid was straight-from-pipe fresh, to him, it smelled and tasted of dirt and worms.

Right now, he was outside sitting on the bench, dry heaving and fervently wishing for the silence and relative cold of his cupboard under the stars.

"Hey, dudes, look what we got here." Dudley's smarmy voice caused Harry to twitch, but he didn't bother with raising his head from between his knees. It was bad enough that everything around him spun like crazy, the surroundings blurring in and out of focus, causing Harry to close his eyes in an attempt to quail the sickly rolling in his stomach. Vomiting on an empty stomach was not something he cared to experience ever again.

Carefully, he inhaled, and promptly gagged on the scent of sweat and strong odor of deodorant his pursues used to appear 'cooler'. _"Ugh."_

"Hey, why don't we have Harry Hunting for the old times' sake?" The high, whiny voice that belonged to Piers suggested and Harry shuddered. Piers' voice was oily, like the worst kind of sludge. At the risk of sounding clichéd, it was enough to make Harry want to vomit… _again._

"Don't want." He snapped out, almost biting his tongue in the process. "Big D, he thinks he has some kind of a choice," Another kid jeered, and Harry felt an inexplicable urge to snap the brat's jaw shut. Their hyenish laughter didn't really help his mood, causing his headache to become even worse.

"Piss off." He grunted, glaring with one bleary eye at his stupid cousin. "Go 'way." He grunted out. Was it really so hard to get just a little bit of peace? The heartbeat echoed in his ears, pounding through his skull painfully, gorging itself on the crested waves of agony that was coming and going with horrible regularity. Harry gritted his teeth. The pain was like _Cruccio_ , but instead of melting his nerves with feeling of hot knives poking at every little individual strand, it was like acid and fire eating through his sanity, causing his mouth to water with excess saliva. He swallowed - a futile action, but done nonetheless.

The jeering and poking of his tormentors became distant whispering sound in his mind when the cold came.

Harry flinched.

He knew that cold.

 _'_ _Not Harry! Not my son!'_ A woman's voice begged in his ears, a flash of red dancing in front of him –

 _'_ _Get away from him, Kiritsugu.'_ A foreign voice called out sharply, dark, sunken eyes glaring at Harry like he was the lowest, most disgusting thing in the world, causing him to cringe with self-deprecation and loathing. The wisps of red and dark violet reached for him desperately

 _'_ _But otousan, he's mi – '_ A boyish voice protested, and there was a messy-haired silhouette of a small boy standing in front of him, cloaked in sanguine red and indigo blue. A moment later, he and the colors were torn from Harry's grasp like they never existed at all, causing him to choke with the pain the hitherto unknown action caused him -

' _Stand aside, my son.'_ An elderly voice instructed, both firm and regretful and Harry felt dread, because he knew this scene and yet, it was so unfamiliar and strange, which made its juxtaposition all the more jarring.

 _'_ _He is my friend! You said I can have friends, why - '_ Another young, desperate voice echoed through his head, all violet and sun-gold, the two colors comfortable and protective shield around him for the shortest of moments, before they were being torn away from him and it _hurthurthurt –_

 _'_ _I am sorry.'_ Another voice, this time toneless, with almost unseen shape in the darkness, with dark, dead eyes staring at Harry and the one in front of him, a tall boy clad in dark grey.

 _'_ _You are not. And I will kill you for it.'_ The young voice spoke out flatly, holding not an empty threat, but a certainty. A flash of grey, blue and green, snuffed out as if they weren't even there to begin with and Harry screamed.

He _couldn'thavethecolors_ and it _hurthurt_ _ **hurt**_ _,_ because he didn't have his heart and warmth and _theywerenotthereanymore_ \- !

The sound that came out of his throat was so raw and animal-like that made the members of Dudley's gang, as petrified as they were, tear themselves out of reminiscing their own worst memories, flinch out of it as if they were whipped causing them to make a run for it, and making the freezing cold concentrate solely on Harry, invisible ice picks penetrating each and every pore of his body, reaching bone- and then _soul-deep_ –

Green colored eyes snapped open, looking right at the veiled form of the thing that encroached upon him and then, everything vanished in golden and orange colored storm.

* * *

He was always empty. Since he could remember, his chest cavity was empty. Of course, his heart beat was still here, but he couldn't feel anything.

No joy. No sadness. Only a profound and always existent sense of _wrongness._

It was a disconcerting feeling, being so very different from everyone else.

He had excelled in his studies, but his success didn't bring him the feeling of accomplishment like it did to his colleagues. The most alive he could feel, it was in the middle of the fight, when his senses were heightened to the razor-sharpness, always on the outlook for his opponent aiming to trick or confuse him, his mind running rampant with plans and counter-plans for whatever they cooked up to doom him.

Sometimes, he was tempted to just let them have their own way.

Sometimes, he purposefully let them injure him, the flashes of pain bright splashes of _feeling_ across his mind.

\- he could almost see the _(sun)_ yellow and violet and that glorious shade of orange, but the last one always skittered away from his fingertips like some kind of ethereal, skittish animal -

The loss was even more profound after those little episodes, prompting him to grudgingly heal whatever little scrapes he had gained from his opponents and head back to his lodgings ( _never home_ ).

Always when he saw orange, he looked, hoping to catch that elusive shade which danced at the edge of his consciousness. However, there was always something that was fundamentally _wrong_ with the shade.

Too bright. Too dirty. Too loud - could the colors even be described as loud? – Too… _wrong._

And too cold.

The world around him still turned around, leaving him feeling bereft, like a particularly heavy rock in the river that moved around it. Changing, yet unchangeable. Smoothing his edges out, yet unable to move him along the current.

He knew what mercy was, what forgiveness should be, even the notion of beauty, he knew the textbook definition of it by heart. But knowledge alone wasn't enough. It was never enough.

He had been walking from the local library, when he felt it.

The cold.

And not the usual cold he had gotten used to in his time of doing missions with Executors, but the kind of cold that seeped out of the very marrow of his bones outward, spilling into his muscles and nerves and chilling his skin like some kind of an inverted supernova of despair.

 _"…_ _why I can't have friends?"_

He shook his head.

He never said that.

 _(But he did.)_

His head began throbbing and he unconsciously began walking and then running straight to the source of that unnatural cold.

 _"_ _Please. No. Not him. I beg of you!"_

He choked on the feeling when he heard - _remembered?_ \- That voice.

 _"_ _Stand aside, my son."_

No. He wouldn't.

 _(But he did.)_

And then, darkness.

And loss – of something so _very_ precious that –

He heard a scream of fear, anger and despair, the anguish given voice, so similar to his own, except that he didn't scream, prompting him to practically _fly_ toward the source of the sound, his vision edged in violet and yellow –

He saw the cloaked things - four of them - advance toward someone, their skeletal hands reaching out, and then, a brilliant storm of beautiful orange flames with golden edges broke out, snapping toward the unnatural beings like cornered animal, causing them to flinch back before they attempted to get to its source once again.

He saw _red._ Those abominations _dared_ to attempt to kill the owner of this precious fire and this was _unacceptable_. Swiftly, his hands reached into his cassock, pulling out all too familiar hilts and igniting them in one breath, before the yellow and violet shining blades - no time to wonder just why were they a mix of those two particular colors - were thrown straight at the foul beings, causing them to shriek and disintegrate, leaving behind only their cloaks and their victim.

The victim in question was still standing, his spine unflinchingly straight, even when his body was trembling like a leaf in hurricane. The slight form was clad in too large clothes, drab gray and washed-out black, more likening to a prisoner than a free person, his messy black hair sticking every-which way rebelliously, like a fur of a wet kitten.

"Are you – " He began to speak, when the victim - a boy, he found out – began to shake even more and it was only his reflexes that allowed him to intercept the crumpling form and unconsciously snatch it to his chest –

The word (- _question_ \- ) lodged itself in the back of his throat.

It was only a moment, and not even that, but those eyes behind the awkward bottle glasses were unmistakably, even if confusingly, familiar green.

* * *

"Do you accept the contract?"

The messy-haired teenager frowned. This client was very persistent. And the information offered on his target was shifty at best and outright false at worst.

He looked at the manila folder in front of him.

"Yes."

Anything, just to shut that headache from hell out of his head.

* * *

His return to consciousness was slow and muddled, like swimming out of the Black Lake, only with more gray and black-toned colors involved, weaving in and out of themselves in front of his mental eyes like lazily rotating kaleidoscope.

Shivering, he tried to further curl into the source of warmth, willingly delaying the moment of waking and realization that the world was once again cold, cruel and wrong.

The warmth - _there was never enough warmth_ \- concentrated itself on a new spot on his forehead, causing him to desperately nuzzle into it, greedily sucking in the small particles of heat like precious jewels to be stored for a later time, when he would be cold and alone once again.

But he had to wake up, and regretfully, he initiated the process of opening up his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy, as if someone had cursed them to be extra heavy and difficult to move.

The first slit of light was dull, the color of watered-down milk that slowly separated itself in shades of dark blue, brown and green. As he shifted his body, he found himself lying in a bed - not the sickeningly soft one at Hogwarts, but it was not the Dursley–given one either. The covers were thick, and, he supposed, warm, even if his body still felt like half-warmed icicle. His nose caught the scent of a laundry detergent, myrrh, and surprisingly, iron and sunshine. He didn't know how sunshine could have a scent, but this one did, and for some reason, it was alright.

The sounds were sparse – his movements, sluggish as they were, susurrating against the fabric of the covers and mattress, along with the occasional movement and breathing of someone also present in the room. This bit of knowledge jolted him, causing his body to tense and his awareness, feeble as it was, snap to attention.

"You're safe." An unfamiliar voice said, its tone just shy of indifferent.

Harry made a half-inquisitive, half-disbelieving sound. The warmth on his forehead vanished, causing him to shiver and frown in discontent, but in exchange, he felt the glasses being put on his nose, causing him to blink at his benefactor. It - or more appropriately he, was young man, somewhere between his late teens and early adulthood. He was clad in ensemble of black - black shirt with black tab collar and likewise colored trousers, the color interrupted only by a simple golden cross glinting on his chest. His hair was short medium brown, with bangs falling messily on his forehead. His eyes were an ordinary brown color, but the eyebrows made Harry blink – they were split on their ends into two little forks each, like someone had played a permanent joke on him at his birth.

"Uh?" His query wasn't intelligent in the slightest. He squeezed his eyes shut and he saw the younger version of the face above him – more childlike, with gentler and deeper brown eyes but this was just –

Involuntarily, his eyes opened themselves once again.

"Think I should've known you." His voice rasped out, and Harry had to swallow against the pain, like he used to, in a strange, unfamiliar movement that was somehow as easy as breathing. The priest's closed-off face didn't change much, but somehow, Harry knew, it brightened considerably, before those strange eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "I feel the same." The response was quiet.

The golden cross swayed into Harry's eyesight as the priest bent forward, those dead brown eyes staring straight into Harry's bewildered viridian orbs.

"Not to sound rude, but who are you?" Harry barely managed to stop his voice from squeaking out. The man was creepy and yet, Harry didn't really feel danger from him, which was a disconcerting feeling all on his own, having his instinct blunder about uselessly, begging for any scrap of information it could be provided to act on.

The priest paused in his intense perusal of Harry's person. "Indeed. My apologies. My name is Kotomine Kirei and I would like to be your friend."

* * *

Those unusual green eyes behind all too familiar glasses widened surprise. Kirei just about bit his own tongue at his own haste. That last tidbit about him wanting to be the small teen's friend was completely unintentional, yet still real and familiar, like an old, comfortable jumper, the kind that was worn in rainy days, warming the body and uplifting the spirit.

Once upon a time, Kirei had owned one. It was almost obnoxiously red color, which had thankfully mellowed out after some wash cycles, the thing was too big for his then-twelve-year old frame, but it was just loose and comfortable enough for his now eighteen-year old one. He hadn't worn it often, but wherever he went, the old jumper was always at the bottom of his small satchel of personal belongings, until it was too worn out to be wearable and delegated to serve as some kind of makeshift pillow.

In his mind's eye, he saw a small boy, with same green eyes and the similarly bewildered face, clad in too big red and yellow clothes staring at the younger him in the same panicked confusion before accepting his offer –

"Kirei."

He blinked at the call. Those green eyes stared at him, as if trying to read his very soul.

"Why?" A simple question. Kirei swallowed. Once again, he felt as if he was at the edge of precipice, and one wrong step, and he would stumble into the darkness. But this time, there was no enjoyment, no thrill, and no excitement. However, there was something within him that desperately pushed for acknowledgement of the asker of this particular question.

But which answer would be the right one?

He closed his eyes. "I just have a feeling that I would regret it if I don't ask you. " The words tumbled past his lips like oil-slick marbles, not allowing them to be caught in the net of the prettied up reasons. Unconsciously, his hand reached for the so very familiarly calloused one, holding and squeezing it gently, as if it were a fragile bird.

He twitched at the gentle squeeze of his hand from the slender fingers resting within it. Slowly, he looked up into exhausted, still wary, yet faintly smiling green eyes.

"Yes."

With that single word, the until then unknown gates within Kirei were opened and he was _home._

* * *

Harry didn't know what prompted him to trust this strange priest, the flashes of the little boy who grew up into the person sitting beside him be damned.

But he was tired. Tired of all the duplicity he suffered, tired of being betrayed and tired of being _alone._ Harry didn't know the priest, nor did he know his motives, but something nudged him to accept this, accept that strangely familiar bond between them, however small and fragile it was.

In the space of an exhale, he allowed himself to let go. Screw the consequences; it couldn't have been worse than it already was.

"Yes." Before he had a time to think it over and to regret what would surely be his stupidest decision ever, Harry assented, squeezing the broad strong palm supporting his fragile one.

And the strange wall in the back of his mind crumbled, letting in the sunlight and gentlest wisps of violet.

Harry never knew it, but that was false - he had known about it once upon a time, before it had been taken from him and sealed down behind that now-crumbling wall, he knew this gentle feeling just as well as his own hand.

He was _home._

The reprieve, however, was only momentary, before his mind was assaulted with the memories from _before_ , causing his eyes to widen with shock, horror and betrayal.

It couldn't be true.

He couldn't have done that to him, could he?

Harry had never seen him before –

 _Lies_ , something within him said, warm and reassuring and so very, very sad.

"They _didn't_ – " He choked out, feeling his eyes blur with unshed tears, but right then, he couldn't be arsed.

The priest's - _Kirei's_ \- hand clutched his own in mirrored sympathy, as his own face contorted into a frown.

"But they did. _Father_ – " Dark, emotionless eyes narrowed with anger, as he bit off the honored title "- helped. I don't know how, but somehow, they managed to erase our memories of each other."

"But I was told I was never out of England! Why would Dursleys lie to me like this?" Harry protested, bewildered, his heart hammering within his chest painfully.

"I don't know." Kirei's other hand was squeezed into an unforgiving fist. "But I intend to find out."

 _"_ _We."_ Harry's voice interrupted the tailspin the young priest's dark thoughts wound themselves into, causing him to blink at the teen boy lying in the bed.

Green eyes, still swimming with tears and hurt held a glint of determination within them, causing them to glisten like polished emerald green diamonds, what with how hard they were.

 _"_ _We_ will."

Involuntarily, Kirei felt a cord of warmth curl around his heart, cocooning it once again within the feeling of wholeness he had missed for so, so many years.

His lips twitched upward into a small, awkward smile.

"Yes. _We will_."

* * *

"So, what happened? Why are you here?" Both of them were sitting in a small kitchenette, Harry drinking hot chocolate, while Kirei was sipping his own mug of tea. The tiny gray and white kitchenette was small, barely enough to house two chairs, a small table and stove with a tiny fridge and cupboard for the barest of kitchen aids and some food.

Dark brown eyes looked at the messy haired green-eyed teen curled on the chair, wrapped in the blanket as he made a sip of the heavenly liquid known as hot chocolate. "I had to deliver a message to the priest here from my superiors. Seems that there was some kind of abnormal activity and they sent me to investigate it along the way." Kirei took a sip of tea from his own cup, his eyes still trained on Harry; as if afraid the youth would vanish the moment he took his eyes off of him, like some kind of a mirage.

Green eyes blinked, confused as Harry nursed the mug between his hands. He was already feeling a bit better, but if pressed, he would admit he was still pretty much woozy. At least that horrible gnawing feeling within him was appeased a little. Harry could've cried with relief when he found out that his stomach was apparently settled enough to not protest his intake of the sweet goods. It was nothing short of a miracle in his humble opinion. "What kind of abnormal activity?" He instead queried back, curious about the issue.

Kirei shrugged his shoulders. Harry couldn't help but notice their width with a small bit of jealously. It was really unfair that Kirei was only three years older, and already buffer than Harry could ever hope to be. Even Ron, who was all awkward and gangly, looked more of a growing man than Harry himself. Although the green-eyed wizard refused to acknowledge it, Fleur's little jab of him being a _'leetle boy'_ was a little too close to the truth still.

"Unknown. The reports were a bit unclear on that, but they suppose there was a magical activity around these parts for a long time." Kirei muttered, his eyes hooded in thought.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "For how long?" He tried to steady his voice, but a small quiver escaped him.

 _'_ _You shall not suffer a witch to live!'_

He still remembered that sentence being thundered down from the pulpit one dreary Sunday afternoon. He wasn't religious – he _wasn't,_ because witches and wizards weren't, but there was still a small bit of primordial fear tucked in the innermost back of his heart because he was a witch - wizard, actually, - and he was wrong enough not to warrant mercy in holy eyes.

"You know something." Kirei observed, causing the small teen to flinch and attempt to shrink back in the uncomfortable chair. His own heart sunk at the obvious fear those green eyes held within when Harry looked at him.

"I – " Harry cut himself off. Closing his eyes, he inhaled painfully as he remembered the days he spent in front of the wooden cross, praying for mercy and absolution for his undoubtedly numerous sins like Dursleys always accused him to have.

"I do." Despair and dejection made themselves once again home in his heart, because surely, Kirei would reject him, just like Dursleys and Ron and it would _hurt._ But Harry was told not to lie, and lie he wouldn't.

"I am a witch." The damning words slipped from his suddenly heavy tongue, like ashes and brimstone, awaiting condemnation.

* * *

Kirei stared. Of all the things he expected his little friend to admit, this was the one he would never, ever suspect. The tiny ball of misery on the chair opposite him didn't even dare to lift his head to look in his eyes, reminding Kirei uncomfortably of the abused animal expecting the next hit.

"Why?" He set the cup on the table, the accompanying clank uncomfortably loud in the small space between them. Standing up, he stepped toward the boy, who shrunk even further back, if that was even possible. "Harry, look at me. Why do you think I would condemn you for being a witch?"

Gently, he cupped the small jaw, tugging the face upward. "Harry. Look at me." He ordered softly, and reluctantly, he got a view of those unforgettably green eyes - but the view was wrong. Those eyes shouldn't ever be filled with fear like they were right now.

"B-Because I am? Or at least, I am a wizard. And Bible said that you shall not suffer a witch to live." The admission was quiet, almost too quiet for Kirei to discern it, but his ears, sharpened as they were, had no trouble with catching the miserable whisper. The green irises hid themselves back behind the veil of the eyelids shamefully, and Kirei suppressed the urge to twitch.

"You are a Magus?" His question caused the miserable wizard in front of him still and blink.

"Um. What is a Magus?"

Dark, emotionless brown eyes looked in green ones. _'So he isn't.'_ Kirei concluded mentally. _'But he isn't lying either.'_

He had the experience with the Magi, simply because he was born with the gift of Healing and his superiors had decided he could've been an even better asset if he complimented his natural abilities with Magus abilities. Luckily, Church had a pact of tolerance toward Magi Association, and as consequence, Kirei's experiences on the side of supernatural were far vaster than ones of his ordinarily schooled holy brethren.

"A person with ability to use energy, called _mana_. For example, I use mine for healing."

Harry's face scrunched from his hesitant and scared expression into a confused one. "You… do?" He tilted his head, as if trying to remember something. "Like glowy stuff?"

If Kirei had been anybody else, he would have been offended at the description of the healing arts as _'glowy stuff'._ It simply wasn't done. Instead, he nodded and with a small exhale, his right hand arose in front of Harry's face and glowed with a soft turquoise-white glow, causing Harry's own hand to involuntarily jerk up and cover his throat.

"You… healed my throat once." Green eyes were wide with astonishment at the revelation of that particular memory.

"I did." Kirei nodded, blinking as his still glowing hand was hesitantly being touched by the small, calloused fingers.

"Oh. It's… Warm." The small comment ignited something of a similar feeling in Kirei's hollow chest, likening its empty cavity to a small, but still vast space, being slowly filled with a warm candlelight.

"So it is." He agreed, and for some reason, his heartbeat felt different than before.

"What are you?" Green eyes stared at the glowing hand before they flickered up to the calm brown orbs of the priest.

"I am a priest." Kirei's reply was simple. "With a small gift in healing." Harry deflated. Mentally, he berated himself for raising his hopes that Kirei was same than him. But instead, he was just a Squib… probably. "Like Magus?" His mouth inquired impulsively, earning him a sharp look.

"No. I am not a Magus. I was trained by one because of my gift, but I am, first and foremost, a priest." The light was extinguished, and Kirei moved away, back to his chair.

"Why?" Harry asked the next question.

"Why what?" Kirei volleyed the question back at him.

"Why are you a priest? You could've become anything." Dark eyebrows furrowing a little, Harry's face scrunched with confusion. His memory was still a little fuzzy on some details aside that horrible betrayal, but the young boy he had known once upon a time didn't seem to be priest material for some reason.

"Because the answers I sought were most likely to be found through walking the way I chose." The priest's voice was even as he picked up his cup once again and made a sip.

"And did you? Find the answers, I mean?" Harry shifted on his chair, making his own sip and grimacing at the cooled down liquid swishing in his mouth. Hot chocolate, when cooled down, just wasn't good to enjoy.

"No. Just ugliness." Kirei looked through the window, though he was aware of Harry's shoulders dropping at his proclamation.

* * *

Harry sighed. Kirei could turn logic around to make his opponent question his very existence, but when it came to his own little dilemma, he was still that little boy wondering why he wasn't beautiful like Father Risei wanted him to be.

"You are you." He muttered, exasperated. "Isn't that enough?"

"But why am I _me?_ Why am I so different from everyone? Why can't I rejoice in my success and am instead happier enjoying other people's misery?" Kirei demanded, clutching the cup in his hand so hard its body broke under the immense pressure exerted upon it. "This is not how a priest should act!"

Harry's eyes widened at the mess that was Kirei's hand. "You're hurt!" He exclaimed, scrambling off the chair, and wincing at the cold of the floor under his bare feet. Hurriedly, he reached for Kirei's hand. "Come here; let's get that mess sorted out."

But Kirei dodged him. "Not until you answer me!" He snapped, usually dull eyes glaring at Harry with a spark of challenge and anger as he clenched his wounded hand, driving some of the shards deeper in the flesh, causing Harry to wince in sympathetic pain.

But Harry also reached the end of the rope, named patience. "You could just as easily ask me why are the sky blue, birds fly and fishes can live only in water!" He growled out, this time successfully snatching Kirei's wounded hand in his own ones. "And did you ever think that maybe you weren't meant to be a priest in the first place? There is also a nifty little title for people who enjoy inflicting pain on others – they are called sadists, and _you,_ mister, are not the poor, lonely little exception in the whole wide world like you seem to think you are! Now let me tend to your hand and _be still!"_ He harshly tugged Kirei's wrist to affirm his command as he led the gaping man to the tiny sink in the corner.

"But – " Kirei tried to say something, only for Harry's glare to silence him once again.

"Kirei. Being _good_ is subjective." Harry opened the water pipe and gently pulled Kirei's wounded palm under its mouth, letting the stream wash away the blood and some of the shards into the sink. "People do good things out of purely selfish motives, just like they do bad ones. At its core, humankind is selfish." His mouth twisted into self-deprecating grimace when he remembered the fiasco that was his schooling at Hogwarts. Gently, he began to squeeze the flesh as to force some of the smaller shards out of their temporary lodgings, letting the water to help him in his endeavor. The sickly sweet scent of iron wafted in the air. "Ideals are more of a guideline than law in this world of ours. We could be kind, but never completely. We could be cruel, but once again, cruelty we can inflict is not infinite. We can be kind to be cruel, and we can be cruel to be kind. The only thing that differs between the two is our choice what we want ourselves to be. Some enjoy being kind, and just the same, there are people who enjoy the most when they are cruel."

"But you don't condone cruelty." Kirei's voice was flat as he watched Harry fuss over his palm.

"I don't." Harry agreed easily. "At least, I don't condone the pain that cruelty can bring." He reached for the towel near the sink, carefully wiping out the moisture off Kirei's palm. "Do you have any tweezers around here? There are some pieces lodged in too deep for me to dig them out without causing you more pain than you are currently feeling."

"Why do you care? You established that you see me as a cruel being. Why are you so concerned with causing me the least amount pain imaginable? Shouldn't you punish me for my enjoyment of others' pain?" Kirei asked, befuddled. The boy didn't make sense. He knew - he remembered that the boy wasn't the one to enjoy violence, that much was clear, but still, _why?_

"You weren't cruel to me." Harry's answer was almost stupid in its simplicity. "And I chose to be kind to you because friends are supposed to be kind to each other."

"I won't be a good friend then." Kirei muttered, looking to the floor. "And no, there are no tweezers." _'Liar',_ his sub consciousness mocked him, but Kirei ignored it with an expert ease. He was surprised by a gentle squeeze of his hand.

"Let me be the judge of it, okay?" Harry smiled at him, before he grimaced. "Any needles?"

"No." Kirei replied, only to earn a flat look in return. "Now I _know_ you are lying to me." Harry glared at him. "Where. Do. You. Keep. The. Needles?"

* * *

A moment later and a small trek in Kirei's room, the priest sulkily handed over a small pack of the required materials to Harry.

"Now that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Harry beamed at him, causing a warm glow settle into Kirei's stomach before he commenced his little self-imposed mission of getting the tiny porcelain shards out of Kirei's flesh.

Harry kept his promise. But for Kirei, each jolt of pain, if however unintended from Harry's side, was a bloom of ecstasy.

He let Harry to wrap the bandages around his hand, never mind that he could've healed himself in few scant moments if he wanted to.

But in that moment, the feeling of being cared for was worth more than the almost instant use of healing gifts.

At the edge of his vision, he saw the gentle orange and golden flames dance around his own sun gold and deep indigo ones.

Maybe it was okay to be himself… just this once.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** _ No, I don't own the universes I am writing in. Neither do I own their respective characters.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ I am very surprised at the turnout - thank you for all the positive comments, by the way - but as promised, another new chapter for this week. Let's see what you will all make out of it. Once again, there are hints about the Elements, so maybe third time is the charm...? Self beta-ed.

 _ **Warnings:** _**_AU_** on multiple scales, bonding on the subject of misery and renewal of friendship.

* * *

 _If it takes another thousand years, a thousand wars,  
The towers rise to numberless floors in space  
I could shed another million tears, a million breaths,  
A million names but only one truth to face_

 _('A Thousand Years' by Sting)_

* * *

 _'_ _Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.'_

The thought, ironic as it was, sneaked into his head as soon as he entered the place, shrouded within darkness and few feeble beams of light spearing them audaciously through the colored glass high above his head.

The scent wafting through the space was almost a relic of old times – a mix of old wood, cold stones and myrrh with something unsubstantial that could be called the weight of time looming across the pews and altar with the statues placed behind it, safeguarding the sacred secret, hidden behind the gilded wooden cabinet.

Only rarely, he had been in the church, and never for spilling out his sins to a sympathetic ear of some or other local priest. The rustic statues on the sides gazed down at him, as if accusing him of the blood on his hands, no matter how clean they were.

He was a killer.

 _A murderer._

No matter if he had been killing in a good faith, sacrificing his inner peace to make this wretched reality a better place for the unknowing masses. One for ten. Ten for hundred. Hundred for thousand.

 _The needs of the many would always outweigh the needs of the few._

Sighing, and wishing once again for a smoke, he closed his eyes. Only for a moment, this moment, and then, he would continue.

So tired.

The headache was ceaseless, writhing in his skull like some kind of an overly wrathful bird of prey, picking at his brain every time, day in and day out. The pills helped for some time, but much to the scruffy young man's dismay, they proved to be less efficient every time he took them.

Not even in his dreams did he have any semblance of peace.

The happy atmosphere within his unconsciousness was stolen by someone he trusted and a strange man, leaving behind a yawning chasm of emptiness.

He remembered, if only barely, those green eyes. The warmth that came with them, and somewhere, there was an echo of their owner's laughter at his antics with the two other boys, but they were just dreams. Weren't they?

 _"_ _I want to be a hero of justice!"_ His younger self's childish words full of wonder and fire were now sounding cheesy and fake, similar to a toy whose bright golden and silver colors had been scrapped off by the claws of reality, leaving behind only the unadorned, pathetic _(-defenseless-)_ little lump of a material that once upon a time might or mightn't have been a hero.

He wanted to scoff at his younger self's stupidity. Being a savior was a thankless job, when it also demanded of himself to sacrifice someone to save the crowd. More and more, he felt like a weapon, cold, ruthless and emotionless, more of a machine than a man.

Once upon a time… he may have had someone to protect.

But once upon a time… he also failed in protecting this person.

 _Failure._ Failure, failure, _failure!_ No matter how many people he protected or saved, there was always the one he couldn't!

And the worst of it was…

He couldn't remember exactly who he had tried to protect.

 _"_ _Get away from him."_

Always that damned sentence. Get away from _who?_

His father's gaunt face and burning dark eyes boring into his own hurt and confused ones, stern and resolute and _obsessed_ –

 _"_ _Get away from him, Kiritsugu."_

He was nothing but a failure.

Maybe this once, he would be given a reprieve.

Exhaling, he opened his eyes, dulled out dark orbs zeroing on the form kneeling in front of the altar, seemingly deep within prayer.

His target.

His hand held the grip, familiar and warm within his palm, an old friend. It would take only one decision, one moment.

Just one raise of his arm, aim, and then to squeeze the trigger. Then watch the kneeling form in front of him jerk and crumple on the stone cold floor, with blood sluicing out of their skull, staining the semi-rough floor surface.

Objective achieved.

But something stayed his hand. Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe it was the silence. Whatever it was, Kiritsugu found his legs move, carrying him forward, closer to the target.

The target was male. A teenager. Small in stature, scruffy hair, clad in too big clothes. Black trousers and obnoxiously red pullover that almost swallowed his frame in its fluffy swathes. He was kneeling on the bitingly cold surface, head bent and hands clasped together as he prayed. For what, Kiritsugu knew not. But he envied the teen his innocent trust in the higher forces he believed in to protect him from the evil and darkness skulking through the world in its various shapes.

He never believed. He hadn't been taught this way, and later on, there was no holy entity saving him from experiencing the horror his father had caused with his thoughtless experiment in the chase after eternal life.

The boy's feet were thin and pale, gleaming slightly in the feeble light of the moon. Kiritsugu felt a sympathetic shudder creep up his spine as he imagined just how cold they were. He never dealt well with the cold and the mere mention of winter gave him proverbial hives.

Still, he knelt at the boy's right side, but refrained in rubbing his right temple with fingertips to alleviate the pain vying around inside his skull. There were some concessions he was just not willing to do.

The boy's whisper of the hallowed words was somehow familiar and calming, and Kiritsugu relaxed. For once, he didn't think of the blood on his hands, nor did he think about the misery that was his past, and even his headache slowly faded into obscurity. He was here, and that, in itself, was enough.

He didn't know how long he was there, just listening to the soft murmur of the prayers being spoken into the silence.

A hand touched his shoulder, jerking him out of his trance. Dark eyes blinked, baffled at their surroundings, before they zeroed on the perpetrator.

The boy in red was looking at him and for some reason, Kiritsugu flushed.

"Are you alright?" The boy's voice was hushed, as if they were doing something forbidden, a scratchy, mellow sound that made Kiritsugu blink with daze. Dark eyes looked into the glasses-framed orbs, and Kiritsugu stilled, his boy tensing.

 _Green._

"You – " He managed to choke out.

"Why?"

The boy frowned. "Why what?"

"Your eyes. _Why?"_ Kiritsugu pressed on, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and glaring at him. "Why do you have those eyes!"

* * *

Harry scowled. "I was born with them!" He snapped back. "I don't know why you are so offended by me having green eyes, but I assure you, it's completely unwarranted." A pressure built within his brain, making Harry suppress a groan of exasperation. Great. Just when he was safe from one headache, another one followed at its heels.

But something was familiar about this young man - despite his slightly gaunt face, messy dark hair and downward turn of lips; Harry had a feeling like he should have known him. A shadow of a lively young boy with blazing black eyes and wide, toothy smile flashed in front of his eyes, too fast for him to discern anything else, aside the taste of that yucky paste. Within a blink, the picture vanished, as if it had never been there, leaving Harry with the unknown, yet so very familiar stranger and the headache about to burst into full-fledged migraine.

The stranger was clad in dark grey jeans trousers with white T-shirt and casual black leather jacket, the collar of his T-shirt wide, leaving the hollow of his throat bare. He looked tired. Exhausted, wearing that bone-deep weariness Harry himself was all too familiar with in every bit and sinew of his body like some kind of invisible curse.

Maybe it was the eyes, so similar to Kirei's own it was scary. But Harry didn't want to budge away. There was no need to, not from this person.

"Sorry." The young man's face changed into a minutely chastised cast, before it smoothed itself out again. Harry almost regretted losing that deer-in-the headlights look the stranger sported when he touched him out of whatever kind of trance the man was in.

"But you reminded me of someone."

Sighing, Harry's shoulders slumped. "You are the second person to tell me that in three days." He mumbled, his eyebrow twitching slightly with irritation when the memory eluded him, taunting him with being so near, yet so far. "Don't tell me you are also the reason for my newly spawned headache from hell."

The stranger glared at Harry, a small spark of irritation in his otherwise dull eyes. "Headache? Why yes, you are. And I would gladly relieve you of it forever if that's your wish." He snarked back. "Is your power giving headache to anyone whom you manage to piss off or something?"

"I _wish_." Harry grumbled out. He rubbed his temple. "It would lessen my share of troubles by far." Scowling, he pushed the man's hands off his shoulders. A short silence ensued, his disgruntled eyes looking into suddenly too serious dark ones.

"You don't mean that." Harry was surprised at the man's vehement tone. "You _can't_ mean that!"

Harry blinked, confused. This person didn't make sense. "But why?" He inquired. Dang, but the floor was positively freezing. He really ought to get some shoes, but he hadn't wanted to wake up Kirei. It was hard enough to sneak past the priest without waking him up, and it was by sheer dumb luck that Harry managed to get as far as in the church… this time.

"Because I am an assassin hired to kill you, that's why!" He was being grabbed by his shoulders again, but this time also shaken like some unruly puppy. "Why would you _want_ to die?" The assassin hissed into his face, dark eyes wild with… was that panic? Harry blinked again, now truly stupefied. Really, this stranger was an _assassin?_ And panicking over a little word game, at that? Harry sighed. He really, really wished that whatever it was that made him step into that kind of twilight zone, stopped working. It was bad enough that wizarding world held no rhyme or reason, and the last thing the last Potter scion needed was for the normal world to heed or worse, follow its brainless example.

"We all are dead in the end, why do you think it would matter if I am dead sooner rather than latter?" Harry questioned back. "Besides, I already have one bastard on my tail and with how the things are going, it's a fair bet I will be dead in the end, one way or another."

* * *

That was not what Kiritsugu wanted to hear. His blood boiled and he clenched his teeth in an effort not to spit out a vehement curse or two. Whoever his client was, they omitted more than a fair share of information when they have ordered a hit on this boy. Even before accepting the contract, Kiritsugu had the nagging feeling that the entire mission was off by a good degree, but to have it confirmed triggered Kiritsugu's temper in the worst possible ways . He never condoned hits on innocents and for some reason this particular one broke the camel's back, so to speak.

"Because I am _not_ having your death on my conscience, do you hear me?" He hissed, his fingers digging into the fragile shoulders with steely determination, making his prey wince with pain within his grip. Mouthing out a soft expletive, Kiritsugu eased the grip, but not by much.

He was gifted with a macabre smile, "What a time to gain the morals." The youth deadpanned, before he winced and reached up to massage his throbbing temple once again in an attempt to alleviate the pain pounding at his skull. "Why do you insist on playing a hero?" Kiritsugu dearly wanted to join him, but ruthlessly squashed the impulse.

"I…" For once, Kiritsugu was at loss of the words. _'Because you are mine?'_ The instinctive response laid within his throat, choked down, prevented from emerging past his teeth and lips. "I... just do?" His defense was a pitiful squeak, and Kiritsugu felt the heat surge into his cheeks and tips of his ears, just like that time when he tasted that gross medicine. He didn't want to look up into those undoubtedly amused green eyes. He sighed. "Because once upon a time, I swore to be one. A hero of justice, if you will."

The air between them stilled as Harry's eyes widened with recognition.

"The one who tried that yucky healing paste and said it was gross?" Harry's tentative question caused Kiritsugu's head to whip up, his eyes wide with surprise. _"…Kerry?"_

Kiritsugu's headache blazed back, screaming like thunderstorm and tornado, both rolled into one and compressed into a sharp, painful lance of agony, black, deep violet and violent red, and then, everything made a horrible, terrible _sense._

 _Because he **remembered.**_ By God and all that was holy, he _remembered,_ and the memories -

 _"_ H - Harry?" He choked out. "You - are you – "

Green eyes tearing up, glazed with pain and relief, so exhausted and older than they should have been, looked into his own astonished orbs, and Kiritsugu's heart skipped, just like that first time. "Alive and here, hero."

"I – lost you." Kiritsugu managed to choke out, and then, he was hugged and _oh,_ wasn't that a familiar sensation, him desperately clutching back to the slight, almost undernourished body in his arms, like it was the only thing holding him afloat in this senseless world, his eye of the storm.

"He told me to get away from you." His voice was thick and scratchy with emotions scraping through his tight voice box, too many to count.

He got a watery chuckle in return. "You didn't. Until the last moment, you stood in front of me, stubborn as a mule, and then, everything went dark. How's your father, by the way?"

* * *

"Dead." The assassin's - Kerry's - voice went cold like frozen steel, causing Harry to blink with surprise. "He… experimented with the blood of Dead Apostle. Something went wrong and the entire island was contaminated with undead creatures. We had to put down everyone." Harry raised his head and looked at Kerry's face.

The assassin was closed off, as if expecting to be pushed away. "I killed him myself."

Harry stared. What could he say to that? He opened his mouth and closed it again. He inhaled.

"I am not losing you again." He finally whispered, causing the man to jerk, and those dead eyes look at him incredulously.

"You did what you had to do. And, I don't really have any right to throw the stones…" Harry's lips tilted with a self-deprecating smirk. "I am a killer too, and without half a good reason you had." His face was pale and defeated and Kiritsugu's stone heart clenched at the sight.

"You? Killer?" Kiritsugu was officially thrown off-kilter. Harry was not the kind of person that could stomach killing a living being in a cold blood, much less a human. But the haunted green orbs were so like his that Kiritsugu's doubts were laid to rest with more ease than he would have liked them to be.

"Yes. Cedric was killed because I suggested that both of us should take the prize." Harry's voice shook with the force of emotions weighing down on him. "But it was all a trap, designed for me. And Cedric was killed because he was there. _'Kill the spare'_ and all that bullshit. If I hadn't - "

"If you hadn't, you would've been dead yourself." Kiritsugu interrupted the dejected youth. He studiously ignored the pang of hurt in his heart at the mention of that _'Cedric'_ person. "You couldn't have known that it was a trap."

"But I _did!_ One of my teachers even told us so, and I was too _arrogant_ and didn't heed - !" Harry's hysteric rant was abruptly silenced by a gun-callused finger on his lips.

"Harry. I don't know the entire story, but I know _you._ You are no killer. You Couldn't. Have. Known. You are not omniscient. And you did the best you could." The dull gaze softened a little. "And at the risk of sounding cheesy…I am not losing you again."

Harry stared, and then, his lips quivered, trembling violently, before they curved into a crooked half-sad and half-relieved smile.

"You're right. That was extremely cheesy."

Kiritsugu wanted to scowl, but instead, it came out like a funny grimace that stole a watery giggle out of Harry's throat.

"By the way…call me Kiritsugu, please. " And there was this darned flush stealing over the cheeks and ear tips again.

Harry smiled. "Kiritsugu. Got it."

For once in his life, Emiya Kiritsugu was completely and utterly content. Whoever dared to part him from his friend again would be met with extreme prejudice and full firepower by one very irate Magus Killer himself.

* * *

Kotomine Kirei was not a happy camper at the moment. Somehow, Harry managed to sneak past his room, so when Kirei checked on him, there was only an empty bed. It had elevated his heart rate and his blood got turned into ice, thinking that maybe some of those strange cold-inducting creatures somehow managed to get past the bounded fields he had hastily erected half a day before - even for him, however brilliant he was, bounded fields still took time and preparation to raise properly. But the fields were undisturbed, so that pointed out to only one remaining possibility… of Harry sneaking into the church all by his lonesome.

Any other day, Kirei would have approved of Harry's little activity. But today - or later, tonight - was not the time for it. Something within him – that sunny warmth and dewy calmness - raged, when he lost his precious person, if only temporarily. Once was enough, and when - _not if_ \- Kirei found the man who caused them to lost their precious memories of each other and the time spent together, the culprit's death wouldn't be easy, peaceful and painless, but rather the opposite of all three.

His gaze darkened further when he looked upon the stranger hugging Harry, a blissed-out smile on the stranger's serious, yet for some reason, also familiar face.

Kirei's hands clenched around the hilts of the Black Keys stashed in the pockets of his cassock. It would be only too easy to take one out, aim, and the stranger would be dead before anyone except Kirei knew what struck him with lethal force.

But Harry was there - oblivious, innocent, wary Harry, hugging the stranger is if he were both the anchor and the lifeline to him and Kirei _couldn't._ Harry's heart was already broken once, and Kirei would be damned if he would be an accomplice in breaking that dear, fragile heart for the second time out of his own volition.

Even as careful as he was, he must have made some kind of a noise, for the stranger's eyes snapped open, revealing dead black eyes staring into his own dead brown eyes unflinchingly, their owner ready to kill what he termed to be an interloper between Harry and him.

"Why shouldn't I kill you were you stand?" Kirei's question was low-voiced, as if they were in the crowd full of people instead of the almost empty interior of the cold, dark church at the ghost hour.

"Why shouldn't I, _Father?_ " The stranger's voice was equally as biting and cold, and the hair on the back of Kirei's neck rose in a small shudder of both dread and excitement. No. This was not a man to be taken lightly, even as young as he was.

But neither was Kirei. He smiled – a small, bloodthirsty curve of his mouth. Oh, he would have _fun_ with this one.

"You admitted to having been contracted to kill the one you hold right now. He is the innocent lamb in the eyes of the Lord, and as His chosen shepherd, I am both permitted and required to take care of him. _You_ , on the other hand… are a _sinner."_ He purred out, delighting in the was his prey's eyebrow twitched at his barbed words.

"You are very _presumptuous_ , Father." The stranger bit out, and Kirei's eyes narrowed when he saw the small bundle of red being tucked even closer into the man's body. "Yes, I was contracted to end his life, but that hasn't happened and it never will, if I can help it!" The stranger snapped out as he stood up, lifting his precious burden.

Kirei clenched his teeth as to not hiss with irritation. Harry was _his_ to protect, _his_ to take care of and _his_ to have, not that scruffy, deadbeat teenager of an assassin! "And what guarantee do I have you are not the one after his life yourself?"

"I am his friend. Best friend, to be precise." The calm, cold words hit the assassin cradling Harry like a hammer, his lifeless eyes widening with shock. Kirei exhaled a measured breath as he contemplated the best angle to hit the bastard. That wasn't true, _yet,_ but if the shoe fit –

"You damn well are not!" The stranger flared out, dark eyes wide with indignation and anger, his teeth bared in a small snarl.

"I asked him to let me be his friend. He agreed. By that venue, I am _way_ ahead of you." Kirei unconsciously baited the messy-haired youth, his lips twitching into a mischievous smirk when the stranger growled with irritation.

"Well, I've known him since I was eight years old!" The indignant reply caused Kirei to blink.

"You couldn't have known him then." However, even when he spoke the words, a sinking feeling made himself familiar in Kirei's stomach. There were not many people Harry had known when he was so very young.

"Both of you are ridiculous." Harry's grumble startled the duo out of their glare-fest at each other into zeroing their attention to the messy-haired, glowering green-eyed teenager in the stranger's hold.

"Harry!" The duo spoke simultaneously, and then glared at each other again. Harry blinked as he looked from Kirei to the stranger - Kirei still didn't get a name to that face and sighed.

"You two don't remember each other?" He asked, exasperated.

"I would've remembered the uppity bastard." Kirei glowered at the stranger's grumble, causing Harry to sigh again.

"Kiritsugu, this is Kirei. You know, the one you hit with the ball. " _'Kiritsugu',_ like Kirei now knew him, blinked dumbly. "And, Kirei, this is Kerry. Or Kiritsugu."

The shadows within Kirei's memories cleared out, and he now clearly could see the resemblance of that man to that of a disrespectful and loud messy brat he had been when he was still a boy. Though, one shadow still remained just that… a shadow.

"Wow, _really?_ I am still not apologizing for it." Kiritsugu snarked, and Kirei's eyes narrowed into a small glare.

"At least you've managed to learn how to spell the word," He sniped back, causing Kiritsugu to growl.

"At least I am not a preaching bastard like you are." Kiritsugu bit back, only to yelp when Harry pinched him in the underside of his upper arm…painfully.

"That wasn't nice, Kerry." Harry said mildly, causing the assassin to pout. "I told you to call me Kiritsugu!" He grumbled out, sulking, before letting Harry's wiggling body down on the floor again, only for Harry to be scoped out in Kirei's hold, causing the green-eyed teenager to yelp with surprise. _"Kirei!"_

"Harry." Kirei acknowledged his now glowering burden calmly. "What on Earth possessed you to sneak out in the night without any appropriate footwear?"

Harry blushed, much to the two spectators' fascination. "Um… I wanted to?" He asked meekly as he ducked his head.

"I agree with Kirei." Kiritsugu interrupted, glaring at Harry. "It's cold and the stone floor is fucking _freezing._ Do you _want_ to pick up a pneumonia?"

"It's summer!" Harry protested, his cheeks still flushed with mortification, bur eyes wide with outrage. "Besides I've had wo – " He clamped down on his mouth, cringing as he was recipient of two very displeased dead-eyed glares.

"You've had _worse?_ Why, Harry, that sounds positively intriguing. Do tell us what you meant with this little tidbit." Kirei inquired silkily, while Kiritsugu hummed in agreement as they all but frog-marched the increasingly flustered teen wizard out of the holy sanctuary that was church into the scary den full of questions called Kirei's kitchen.

* * *

"Traitors, both of you." Harry couldn't help but mumble, horrified at the unholy union, however temporary it was, of his two childhood friends that had been (and continued being) each others worst archenemies imaginable. It didn't help that Kirei still had a knack for needling Kerry - now Kiritsugu - like nobody's business, and Kiritsugu also didn't pull any punches. At least they had the mind and decency to keep it more or less verbal. Harry shuddered to even _think_ what could have been if they decided to enact one of their infamous brawls. Even when they had been younger, they were able to cause mass property damage, what with Kirei's strange martial arts which he also taught Kiritsugu - if for nothing else, then because the victory was ever so sweeter when whumping someone who knew at least _some_ of martial arts as in opposition to being an uncouth brawler. Kirei's own words.

"That was not nice, Harry. We are just concerned for your well-being." Kirei demurred silkily.

"What he said." Kiritsugu grunted out. "Harry, what's going on?" Dark eyes looked into green orbs, serious. "I know we haven't been together for long, but what I've gleaned from your words, I don't like. You sneak into church without any warm clothes and you are talking as if death is personally hounding you."

"He had also been assassinated by the strange beings, called Dementors." Kirei supplied, frowning at the terrible memory. Kiritsugu's head jerked toward the young priest, his sunken cheeks rapidly blanching in the stark light of the electric lamp of Kirei's kitchen. _"Dementors?"_ He rasped out, his dark eyes wild. "They are only sent out after someone who had been slapped with the equivalent of Sealing Designation!" Kirei's previously confused face snapped into a sterner cast.

"Explain." His voice was low and dangerous. Kiritsugu's dark eyes flickered to Harry, who had been hunched on his chair, swaddled in a blanket and staring him with the mixture of confusion and betrayal, causing his heart to flinch at the pitiful sight.

Inhaling, Kiritsugu's fingers clenched into a fist as he leaned against the counter, eyebrows scrunching as his mind flew over the information gathered, trying to pick out the relevant ones. "A quick question." He looked at Harry. "Are you a wizard?" After Harry's confused nod, he sighed. "I knew as much, but I asked to clarify. In short, there exist people, who can manipulate energy. I call it energy, because that's all it is. People, depending on which system they use, label it either magic, chakra, mana, prana, and so on. People who use magic are labelled witches and wizards. They exist in a world, separate from the 'normal' one in an attempt to avoid the witch hunts; they have their own society, government, laws and so on. Concerning laws, Dementors are the worst punishment imaginable because these creatures at best cause the victim the misery of reliving their worst memories in continuous loop, and at worst, they administer the so-called Kiss. Which is nothing more but a fancy term of sucking out the victim's soul and eating it, leaving behind a soulless husk."

"How do you know that?" Kiritsugu shook his head at Harry's surprised question. "I am an assassin. My primary targets are corrupt Magi, but I killed my fair share of witches and wizards at the behest of my employers." He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. "And information is kind of bread and butter in my brand of work. Can I continue?"

"Do so." Kirei was eerily calm. _Too_ calm, in Harry's unnerved opinion.

Kiritsugu blinked but continued. "Dementors are ugly creatures. Because of their abilities, I've taken a special precaution of looking up the information about them. While they are cordoned on the Azkaban Island, the Ministry can also leave them out on the hunt for especially dangerous people." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he looked at Harry. "I was - I was contracted by a person to assassinate you, saying that you were a dangerous element to the society because you were experimenting with Dark magic."

"B-But I'd never!" Harry protested, his eyes wide with shock.

"Why does the dark magic cling to you like dark shroud then?" Kiritsugu's question froze the two other occupants with shock.

"What do you _mean,_ it clings to him?" Kirei snapped out, irritated. Dark eyes looked back at his brown ones. "Can't you feel it? That shard in his forehead?" Kiritsugu made a positively sickened noise, and Kirei's eyes flew to Harry's forehead, as he hurriedly reached out with his hand, placing it on Harry's forehead and then extending his spiritual senses as he concentrated on the scar.

He hadn't done that before, and Kirei wanted to berate his foolish self very much. It was also galling that the one who discovered the anomaly was not someone trained in that kind of stuff, but a complete amateur, who came by the discovery by pure chance.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated more. There, in the mass of the golden orange, there was a sickly shard of orange and poisonous green. Kirei himself would have overlooked it, if he hadn't been attentive to the flame within his mind. The tiny shard was clever, very clever. Colored orange, so that at first, it wasn't any different from other flame fragments, but if one looked at it from different point of view, like Kirei was currently doing, they would have immediately seen the difference. It made Kirei angry. _It. Didn't. Belong_. Especially not when it somehow managed to choke down the sun and violet of his own flames. And that was _unacceptable!_

Mentally, Kirei reached out to seize the offensive little blight – his own sun and violet colored flames were also outraged on his behalf, burning brightly, ready, willing and able to _eviscerate_ the hideous facet, only for them to be rebounded off of the shard painfully, making Kirei hiss and jerk back into consciousness, his hand and head throbbing with pain, as if they had been sharply flayed by thick live wire.

"Kirei?" Harry's concerned voice reached out to him. "You alright?" The teen's hand clasped his own. "You're not looking well."

And that was an understatement. Kirei looked positively livid - or as livid as one as him could be.

"This is _unacceptable_." He hissed out, glaring at the scar hiding the offensive little shard. Harry flinched, and tried to retreat his hand, only for Kirei to clutch to it. "No, you're not at fault." Kirei half-snapped at him. "But Kiritsugu is right, there's something within you, something _dark_ , and I can't get it out by myself." He released Harry's hand and began to pace.

Kiritsugu watched the priest walk up and down in the too-small kitchen, looking like caged wild tiger. "It's positively sickening, too." Brown eyes caught his own black orbs before flicking away as Kirei turned back. "I've tried to touch it to remove it - it chokes down my own sun and violet flames - but it was like touching lightning with bare hands." Kirei grimaced. He was no stranger to pain, but this was the kind of unpleasant even he was wary to deal with.

"Sun and violet flames?" Kiritsugu inquired, curious, causing Kirei to pause. The priest faced him again. "Yes. I never told anyone, but…I see them. Or at least, I used to." Kirei's lips tightened into a frown.

"It was when I was little, and meeting Harry for the first time. You had golden orange flames." He addressed Harry, who blushed. "But I didn't see them!" He protested, shaking his head. Kirei stared. "But-" Harry hedged, the blush darkening on his cheeks –" I've missed the colors. And when you were taken from me – "He swallowed, green eyes glistening with pained moisture he hastily wiped out of his eyes – "It was like looking at your silhouettes. You had sun yellow and indigo flames. Kiritsugu had crimson red and deep violet ones. And… "His breath hitched "There was beautiful blue and green for someone else, too. And then, when we met again, there was yellow and violet breaking down that wall in my mind." He then looked at Kiritsugu.

"When I met you for the second time – "

" – it was red and violet tornado, wasn't it? "Kiritsugu interrupted him with a hushed voice, his own eyes wide with remembrance. "And I remembered. Not everything, certainly not that bastard – "he cut a grumpy look at Kirei – "But I remembered that travel. The healing paste." He grimaced at the memory. _"You."_

The silence that settled between the trio was deafening.

"What does that mean?" Harry was lost. There was only so much he could deal with today, Meeting an assassin, coming a hair's breadth away from certain death by the self-same assassin, getting his memories back and finding out about those strange… flames was a bit too much even for someone as used to strange things happening to his person as he was.

"It means we have to get that thing out of your head, as soon as possible. " Kirei's teeth were clenched with irritation. "I will not tolerate that thing choking down our flames, whatever they are, for longer than absolutely necessary. "

Closing his eyes, Harry sighed. "But isn't it strange that you said you've only noticed your flames and not Kiritsugu's in the mix?" He inquired, his voice weary. "I mean, I remember you both, and I accepted you back. Why is Kiritsugu's flame not present?"

For a moment, Kirei felt positively smug at that little revelation. But Harry's exhausted, drawn face quickly browbeat the smugness into submission. "You accepted my offer of friendship. " He hummed thoughtfully. "You haven't done the same for Kiritsugu… maybe that's the difference?"

"You _what!?_ " Kiritsugu yelped, his eyes wide with surprised betrayal. "Harry!"

"It's not like he said!" Harry defended himself, face completely mortified with the latest revelation. "Then how is it?" Kiritsugu pounced on the weakness like a lion would on a wounded gazelle, causing Harry to splutter. "I only - um, he said that he wanted to be my friend and I agreed!"

"Is that so?" Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the revelation. "Was that offer for being his best friend?" Kirei's smirk promptly turned downward. "Now wait a minute – "The priest said, but Kiritsugu smoothly steamrolled him. "Well, was it?"

"No, it wasn't, but – " Harry stumbled, his eyes, wide and he looked like he wanted to vanish in the blanket for just about forever. Kiritsugu wanted to smile, but instead, he kept his stern face on. "Then would you accept me as your best friend forever?" He asked, dark eyes glinting and Harry's dread mounted.

"Y-yes?" His agreement came out more like a squeak.

"Wonderful. And, Harry, the hand?" Kiritsugu wasn't declining his little attack. Blushing, the wizard wiggled the requested for limb out of the swathe of fabric his body was tucked in, and offered it to the assassin who grabbed it in both hands, causing the warmth between them to spread between them and there was this sense of _home_ once again.

"See. I'm Harry's _best_ friend." Kiritsugu smirked at the priest. If Kirei's glares could kill, then Kiritsugu would've been dead right the and there at least ten times over. Thankfully for Kiritsugu's continued well-being, they lacked that particular ability.

"Fine. I am still Harry's _first_ friend." Kirei snapped out, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Now you are just being a sore loser." Kiritsugu smirked. "After all, I am his _bestest_ friend forever." His shark smile was taunting, just like it used to be when they were young.

Harry groaned. Screw the mysterious flames and scars, the two of them would be the death of him first!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:**_ No, I don't own them or the song. I am just making their lives more interesting.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ This chapter is a mixed bag of happiness, hard feelings and an outsider's POV of the dynamics you are all privy to. As usual, topsy-turvy in a sense. By the way, thanks for the laughs, your reviews are awesome - and of course Kirei and Kerry will have some tiffs over their precious.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, snuggles, hard talks.

* * *

 _But if there was a single truth, a single light  
A single thought, a singular touch of grace  
Then following this single point , this single flame,  
The single haunted memory of your face_

 _('A Thousand Years' by Sting)_

* * *

The next morning was no better. Harry found himself being cuddled between the two bodies.

Nothing wrong with it. Not at all. He _had_ been cuddled before, right?

However, the cuddles before and now were drastically different. For one, the bodies of the two cuddlers in question were suspiciously close to his own.

Harry swallowed. But the warmth was a nice bonus - the taller body at his back was a live furnace, while the one in front of him was a gently leeched away the excess warmth between the three of them, leaving him in a cozy middle, temperature-wise. The atomic blush on the wizard's face was result of the position he found himself being in - Kirei was playing the big spoon, practically curling around him, with his right hand being curled around Harry's waist like iron vice cast in human flesh. All too acutely, Harry felt the man's chest rise and fall against his back, and the warm, moist breath tickling his nape and teasing the little hairs here. Kirei was always taller than him, so when they were little, Harry was always the one to snuggle against him when they napped those halcyon days in the past. And even if they cuddled, they were young and awkward enough that there was a good margin of space between them because of the unbearable heat. But now the space between the three of them seemed to vanish, as if it had never existed to begin with, much to Harry's horror.

Kiritsugu was no better. He was also taller than Harry, which was easy enough feat but it left Harry to sulk in the privacy of his mind, so he had to curl down a little that Harry's breath hit the hollow of his throat while his left hand carelessly rested on Harry's hip, somewhere between the boxers and the space of naked skin on his side, a reassuring, calloused weight that caused Harry's already crimson face invent a completely new shade of red. The young man's face was completely lax for once, leaving it free of worry lines, like freshly ironed linen. It made Kiritsugu look a little bit younger and more carefree, what with the darkly drawn eyebrows, long lashes and messy inky hair against the pale skin illuminated by feeble morning light clawing its way across the darkness of the room, chasing shadows stretched within and across the room back in their pitiful little abodes once more. In a contrast to Kirei, Kiritsugu's body was lankier, the collarbone defined in sharp lines, partially hidden underneath the worn sleeveless undershirt the assassin wore to the bed.

Swallowing, Harry felt indecently overdressed. Both Kirei and Kiritsugu apparently decided that boxers and lone sleeveless undershirt were good enough of sleeping attire for them, but still insisted on Harry to change into Kirei's pajama pants and shirt, citing Harry being cold as an icicle. Not that the attire in question held through the night - the pants were unconsciously kicked off in the middle of the night, leaving Harry in his boxers and Kirei's oversized dark blue shirt. ' _Damn that priest for having such a big body.'_ Harry thought to himself, sulkily. Who would have thought that this cute little kid would have grown into a tall behemoth like Kirei was right now? And it was completely unfair that Kirei's body was built like a tank, while Harry's own remained undecided whether to go the guy or girl's side, much to Harry's dismay.

Back to the problem at hand. Or better, to the pair of cuddle monsters that had through the night somehow managed to make a Harry-sandwich. The side product of that action was also unknowingly getting Harry's hormones dancing in a happy little cocktail Harry could've done just fine without at the moment, thank you very much. He had enough on his plate already without worrying why he was a little bit too _happy_ by his friends' close proximity to his own person.

Carefully, he began the process of extraction of his body out of the warm and cozy cocoon he had been bundled in, only to discover the 'sides' of that particular sandwich he was in the middle of, were particularly uncooperative in his newest endeavor.

For instance, Kirei's arm squeezed his waist harder, making Harry acutely aware of the strength contained in the muscle-corded appendage and the skin-soft, warm yet still solid expansion of the bare chest and muscled stomach behind him. He swallowed thickly when the bulge slid against his posterior as if in afterthought.

 _'_ _Definitely not friend-type of cuddling!'_ His brain squeaked at him.

Kiritsugu was not any better, either. Somehow, the messy-haired assassin managed to get even closer, his legs tangling with Harry's ones and Harry's nose was now pressed against Kiritsugu's throat hollow, getting intimately reacquainted with the unique scent that curled around Kiritsugu like some kind of invisible shroud.

The scent was of gun oil and a faintest smell of cigarette smoke entwined along with Kiritsugu's own scent, intermixed with a faint whiff of generic soap. Harry's eyes fluttered close as he once again inhaled the heady mixture, so different from Kirei's own.

Myrrh, blood and olive wood. The blood one was new, as it hadn't been such a strong note when they had been younger, but myrrh and the olive wood were two constants that caused Harry to relax almost unconsciously, as if something within him knew he was safe with the owner of the scent involving the two aforementioned fragrances.

The teen wizard swallowed. Harry licked his lips as he fervently prayed he wouldn't get a boner right there and then. It would be terribly, horribly, shamefully inappropriate. Especially when he was lying, however innocently, with a _priest_ of all people. Besides… He liked girls, didn't he? Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry tried to imagine Cho, her smile, her glittering dark eyes, and her slender form swaying through his dreams like it used to. Her grace in the air and on the ground, her bell-tinkling laughter –

-but instead, the eyes he saw were the ones staring into his own ones in the half-darkness of the church's hull. Her form changed into a blob, splitting and stretching and changing in two, distinctly male ones, one with messy dark and the other with lighter shade of shorter brown spikes. The grace was twofold – the first one of a holy prayer whispered through the air and clinging to the cassock-clad form towering above his own, and the second one reminiscing of a feral feline embodied in a human form.

His breath hitched.

"Harry?" The sleep roughened voice slurred against his ear. "What's wrong?" Kirei queried as he half-consciously nuzzled the nape of Harry's neck, like he used to when they were young boys.

Harry seriously wanted to weep. Such an innocent gesture was now working a havoc on both his mind and body.

(He really should've kept insisting on sleeping alone. But then, he got a sinking feeling the outcome would be more or less the same as it was now.

Because, cuddle monsters.)

He was so doomed it was not even funny.

"Um… Mind letting me go? I need to take a leak." He choked out, squirming. This was too much!

"Do you really?" The inquiry came from the source from Harry's front next in a grumbled-out voice.

" _Yes!_ Yes, I do! Now, lemme go, I don't particularly fancy getting the bed wet!" His voice ended in a high squeak when his waist was hugged one last time, damn that Kirei - and then he made a wild scramble across Kiritsugu's body to dash to the toilet, leaving his body-shaped heaters adrift in the bed.

One dark orb opened a smidgen, staring at the priest. "You are a sadist." Kiritsugu mumbled, snuggling deeper in the covers, his mouth slanted in an amused smirk.

Kirei blinked as he stretched out, the muscles of his chest and arms contracting and relaxing in a hypnotic dance, usually empty brown eyes alight with an amused glint before they returned back to their seemingly emotionless state.

"That's what he said." His reply caused Kiritsugu to suppress an entertained, if a little bit scandalized snort into the fabric.

* * *

The breakfast was a tense affair, what with Harry being still flustered by their joint teasing, even if both Kirei and Kiritsugu decided to be mercifully quiet on the issue. They were sitting around the table, with Kirei and Kiritsugu enjoying their morning shots of of coffee while Harry had a big black and blue mug of chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey placed on the table's surface in front of it, staring at the steam lazily curling out of it. Not that he needed it, but Kirei insisted, and Harry had given in. After all, it was rude to decline a host's offer of tea. Inwardly, Harry grimaced, knowing he was stalling, but to their credit, neither Kirei nor Kiritsugu pressed for the answers.

Maybe it would've been better if they had. If they had, then Harry wouldn't have been pressed to begin the miserable affair commonly known as the Talk Out. But in a sense, it was a relief to the young wizard that at least something would happen on his terms, even if it didn't bode well for any of the involved.

"So… What next?" He broke the silence, causing the two pairs of eyes to zero on his person. Harry bravely resisted the urge to fidget.

"You are going to tell us who exactly has it bad enough for you to hire _me_ of all people to get you killed." Kiritsugu placed his cup of coffee on the table firmly. He was clothed in his yesterday's attire - short-sleeved, wide-collared white shirt coupled with dark grey slack and black shoes. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have mistaken him for an ordinary teenager. But those dark, flat eyes were not something seen on a young man with ordinarily happy life.

"It's not exactly your business – " Harry tried. Really, he did. Because he would be damned if he dragged his best friends in the clusterfuck that was his life right now.

"But it is. Especially when we both nearly died three days ago." Kirei interrupted him, his own dark brown eyes serious as well. "We are already involved. And since we are your friends, we want to help you."

"It's dangerous!" Harry glared at the unrepentant priest and then the assassin. "I don't want you two get killed or worse because of me!" He snapped, his hands clutching at his own cup of tea reflexively to the point of knuckles becoming white. Dammit, why were they so _stubborn?_ But, he supposed he should have expected that from the two of them, never mind the mumbo-jumbo that scrambled their memories of each other. Even when they were younger, they were ridiculously possessive, and it seemed that this particular trait once again reared its ugly head.

Not that Harry minded - it was good to know that someone was still standing in his corner. But in that case, the risks heavily outweighed the benefits.

"Harry." Kirei called out to him, causing those green eyes blink at him. "I can take care of myself. And we both were lied to, presumably in order to keep us apart." Kiritsugu sent him a sharp look of inquiry. This was news for him.

Harry took a shuddering inhale. He had been betrayed. For a time, however short it was, he had forgotten that little fact. But it _existed,_ here and now, and if he had been betrayed by one of the figures he held in closest of confidences, what guaranteed that anyone else wasn't similarly compromised?

"Betrayed how?" Kiritsugu's voice was low and cold, clipping the air ruthlessly. Harry would have flinched at the assassin's voice, but instead sighed and shook his head, quietly resigning himself to the inevitable.

Kirei glanced at the assassin. "When we were young, someone messed with our memories." His voice was flat when he reiterated the fact, but neither Harry nor Kiritsugu didn't miss his shoulders tensing when he recalled the memories involved with the fact. All three of them tried to keep still - as still as they could, as if one wrong movement - too fast one - shattered the fragile equilibrium of the room.

"I killed my father." Kiritsugu's voice was impersonal, even with a trace of bitterness lacing his undertones. His face was not nearly as haunted as it was tinged with resigned disgust before the expression was smoothed under an emotionless mask.

"But there was a second person." Kirei countered, looking between Kiritsugu and Harry, his eyebrows scrunched with discontent and anger. Inhaling, he picked the cup again. He sorely wished he could've had some mapo tofu right now. The spicy heat always soothed him. "And that second person is close to Harry."

Kiritsugu stilled, his gaze froze on Harry's miserably hunched form. "And they hadn't killed you?" His shoulders tensed with the stress when he thought of potential security risk so close to his most precious person.

 _'_ _Yet.'_ The little word wasn't added at the end of the sentence, but it was here, as if Kiritsugu actually added it in the sentence.

"No." Harry felt his throat become lodged with emotions. It was inconceivable, and yet, there wasn't any reasonable explanation just why would that person betray him so as to take from him his very first childhood friends in such a brutal manner. "I don't know why they have done it. But if they had done it before, what would stop them from doing it again?" He concluded miserably.

That was Harry's greatest fear now. Losing his first friends again - this time permanently, living an empty life without the warmth they had gifted him with, forever alone, no matter how many people tried to fill the gap left behind their existence. With his eyes still lowered to the table, he dimly heard the chair scrapping the floor, mind still caught within recent revelations in his life.

He was dragged out of his dark thoughts by a warm pair of arms hugging him to a firm chest, his nose being filled with the scent of gun oil, cigarette smoke and soap, and something uniquely Kiritsugu. It made him sag in the embrace, like some kind of a ragdoll, and wish that everything could be like in those simpler, happier times.

"Harry." Kiritsugu's chest vibrated, causing the teen to shiver with sensation. "We are not exactly helpless. I am an assassin. I have no problem with killing someone who wants your head on a pike. The only way you can endanger me is if you don't let me in."

 _Oh, geez_. Harry tried to fight a blush, but the heat emanating from his cheeks hastily informed him that he had clearly failed in that regard. He turned begging eyes to the only one with a sane mind in the room. Surely Kirei could see that it was a suicide in the purest form?

"He is right." Harry's heart did both a jump and a stumble at the priest's affirmation as his own eyes widened with shock. "You don't have to worry about my safety, either. I am an Executor." Dark brown, still dull eyes looked at him meaningfully. "Basically, I am doing similar things like Kiritsugu, just on the church side of things."

"How's that my life?" Harry asked weakly as he slumped further in Kiritsugu's hold. His friends turned out to be assassins and still insisted to stick with him, despite his warnings. He swallowed around the warmth spreading in his chest, as constricted by fear and anxiety as it were. So many things could go wrong it wasn't even funny.

 _But maybe_ \- something within him whispered, uncurling within the back of his mind, _it was a time that things could go right for once._

Harry swallowed once again. Around the guilt and hope and fear, the feeling intermixing into a great, leaden ball made of flesh nestled within his throat, throbbing in sync with the beat of his own heart.

"But won't your superiors – " He tried to avert the disaster. Really, he did.

"I can easily file it under an extended mission." Kirei replied, tilting his head and arching one of his uniquely forked eyebrows.

Harry didn't know whether to laugh, cry of berate the hell out of his unrepentant priest friend who also happened to be a part-time assassin. At least the ball lodged in his throat became smaller and more bearable.

 _'_ _Extended mission, he says,'_ Harry thought to himself numbly. As if the fate of approximately half a million people wasn't hanging in the air above Harry's head like invisible sword of Damocles, ready to rend him apart when he least expected it.

But maybe _\- just maybe -_ it was as simple as they said it was. Maybe Harry was over-complicating things, like he had done with Cedric. Closing his eyes, he sighed, the inhale and exhale wobbly on his lips.

Maybe it was time to begin anew and this time trust right people to have his back.

Inhaling again, he forced himself to give a curt nod. "But…" He bit his lip as his eyes looked to the uninteresting gray floor. "What I am about to tell you may sound a little bit unbelievable."

Kiritsugu snorted. "Hit us." His voice hummed in Harry's ear, like a dangerous, if exotic, insect.

Harry let out an exasperated nod. That was Kiritsugu, the one who went where angels feared to tread. Why was he thinking he would be any different again?

"Right. Have you heard about Voldemort?" Feeling Kiritsugu nod, but seeing Kirei giving him an inquisitive stare, Harry elaborated. "To sum it, like Kiritsugu said, magic exists. I am one of those magic users, called wizards. Some fourteen years before, the magic world was being torn apart by a civil war, caused by Voldemort." He swallowed dryly as he remembered his last meeting with the more of monster than a man. "He is like some kind of a magical Hitler, wanting to purge out all whom are not pure blooded, despite him being a half-blood."

Kiritsugu scoffed. "In short, he is the kind of a prick like those in Clock Tower."

Kirei made a small sound of understanding. He didn't have much contact with the Clock Tower's inhabitants aside Tohsaka clan head, but even he knew that anybody not of the old magi lines had hard time in earing higher position and influence on the institution. "But why does he lead the extermination if he is, like you said, a half-blood? It doesn't really make sense, because at the end, he would be the one of the persecuted." He pointed out, his eyebrows furrowing as he made a sip of coffee.

* * *

Harry grimaced. "Technically, he is a pureblood, because one of his ancestors, Salazar Slytherin, was reportedly one. And if nothing else, Slytherin is also revered in the wizarding world because he was a co-founder of the school for witches and wizards."

"And he targeted you. Why?" Kirei pressed on, staring into conflicted green eyes.

The wizard flinched. "Because I survived him." He whispered.

Kiritsugu paused. "Wait. _You_ are the so-called Savior of the Wizarding World?" His voice was just shy of incredulous.

Harry glared at him. "Yes. What gives?"

Miffed now, Kiritsugu shook his head, but still not relinquishing his hold on the small wizard. "I ought to shoot the prick who gave me the info on you. I was told only the bare basics - that you should have been neutralized because of that dark energy you carry around, but there was no mention of you also being a wizarding hero. In short, " he looked at interested Kirei, "When Harry was a baby, Voldemort came to his house. He managed to kill his parents, but when he turned on Harry, something went wrong, causing him to disappear and Harry survive." Kiritsugu interjected, seeing that the memories were hard on his friend.

"Who is talking here, me or you?" Harry scowled at him half-heartedly. He was grateful that Kiritsugu knew at least a bit of it, but peeved about being interrupted, no matter how welcome the interruption was. He wiggled, wanting to be let out of the hug, and reluctantly, Kiritsugu let him go.

"You." Kiritsugu smirked at him before his face became serious. "But I will let you talk – and only, if you will tell us _everything._ I don't trust that any info I got from my former employer is truthful right now."

That took the proverbial wind out of Harry's sails. But looking into their eyes, he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. "Fine." He grunted out. "As I didn't have any living relative, I had been dumped at the Dursleys, my aunt and uncle after the attack. Dumbledore said it was because of my safety – "

"What kind of safety?" Kiritsugu interrupted him again, dark eyes hard. Taken aback, Harry looked at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"He said you would be safe here. What did he do to ensure that?" Kiritsugu clarified, as he let go of Harry and straightened out, crossing his arms on chest to distract himself from searching for a cigarette. The whole situation looked more or less a guarantee for an entire pack of them the longer he was listening to Harry's story.

Harry felt kind of bereft without Kiritsugu's arms being wound around him. _'Concentrate.'_ He rebuked himself. Right now, hugs were not that important, no matter how pleasant and warm they were.

"I don't know - some kind of blood wards." Kirei choked mid-sip of coffee at Harry's clueless answer, previously blank eyes widening with horror.

 _"_ _Blood wards!?"_ He spluttered, waving Harry's concern away as he hurriedly put the cup on the table. "Is that man _insane?"_

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, offended. "Dumbledore is not my favorite person in the world right now, but – "

 _"_ _But nothing!"_ Kirei barked back, his brown eyes narrowed with anger. "Blood wards are forbidden with a reason! They are the one kind of a Bounded Field that was used only in the _direst_ circumstances, because they have to be powered up with the family's mana…" he trailed off, when something occurred to him, causing him to blanch.

Kiritsugu apparently came to a similar conclusion, because he looked faintly sick. "Harry. Dursleys aren't magical, are they?" His whisper didn't reassure Harry, but the teen wizard still shook his head.

"You were almost sickly looking when we first met." Kiritsugu continued, his previously shaken voice gaining a trace of anger. "I thought it was strange, even with your family's behavior toward you, I should have known that there was something more afoot."

Harry looked from one to another, a sinking feeling pooling in his gut. "It was because I supported the wards, wasn't it?" He whispered his green eyes wide with hurt. Kiritsugu wanted to hug him again, and to hide him away from the world that was wounding him so. Instead, he clenched his teeth and looked away, his right hand curling into a fist anew. The Dursleys began to seem a very tempting target right now.

Kirei nodded. "While Tohsaka's true gift lies in jewelcraft, we also covered a bit about Bounded Fields. And he told me that it was an outright _suicide_ to have only one anchor for Bounded Fields, especially Blood Wards. Not only because the anchor would be almost stupidly easy to break, but the same anchor would have to channel massive amounts of prana to sustain the Field." He explained, his face grim at the implication his words carried out.

Kiritsugu made a noise of agreement. "I don't know _what_ that Dumbledore idiot was even thinking, but you are damned lucky you've survived up to this point. For the Dementors to track you down despite Blood Wards being up at the time, you were at your limit, mentally, physically and emotionally." Dead black eyes glinted with anger. "I don't know where did he get that stupid idea, but the fact is, it almost _killed_ you - even without Dementors, it would be only a question of time when you would collapse. "

"But I am feeling okay right now!" Harry protested. Kirei's deadpan stare caused him to blush with embarrassment. "I am, really!" He flashed him a feeble smile even he didn't believe it would fool the priest.

"Maybe it is because the wards had been shattered." Kirei speculated. "When I saw you, you were wreathed in the storm of orange and gold flames, and whatever they are, they may have added to the breaking of the link between you and the wards."

Harry blushed. The impressed glance Kiritsugu threw him didn't help the matters either. "We don't know that," he hedged, and then he hurriedly switched to the hopefully less dangerous the topic. "But… "He bit his lip as he entwined his fingers together in an effort to prevent nervously fiddling with them. "If the wards are down… d'you suppose the Dursleys are alright?"

Kirei abruptly stood up, the chair screeching in the protest at the sudden movement. Before Harry knew it, two broad, warm hands cradled his face, and tilted it upward to look into dark brown eyes.

"They can _rot_ for all I care." Kirei growled, his lifeless eyes narrowing into furious glare. "What's important, is that you are _alive."_

Harry opened his mouth to rebuff him, but he couldn't find the words. "You could've _died."_ Kirei continued. "You could've died, and I wouldn't have known it, going through life day after meaningless day. Do you really value their worthless existence over yours still, even knowing they don't give a damn about you living or dying?"

Swallowing dryly, Harry shook his head. It should have hurt, he supposed. But he had known about his family's - no, Dursleys' dislike of him long enough that it didn't matter. What hurt, instead, was the scenario Kirei had painted instead - him, dying in defense of his bully of a cousin and his compatriots, leaving behind not only Kirei, but also Kiritsugu, leaving them to the same darkness they had pulled him out of.

He shuddered as his jaw worked on, to say something, but there were too many feelings for him to voice.

Somehow, Kirei understood, because Harry found himself in a strong embrace, acutely feeling the heart under Kirei's ribcage thudding along his own.

This life, he was now somehow responsible for. Harry gulped, intimidated. It was a scary thought, to have two beings, however dangerous they were, so dependent on him. But also heartening that someone cared whether he lived or died no matter the consequences. A hand also found itself on his shoulders.

"Right. Can we cut all that mushy crap and get on with it?" Kiritsugu's scratchy voice grumbled out, causing Harry to breath out a chuckle as he heeded Kirei's peeved out request.

"I've lived for them for eleven years." He became serious once again, staring in Kirei's eyes. "And then, when I was eleven years old, I've found out that I am a wizard. It was certainly a shock." Harry smiled as he reminisced the crazy times before he once again became serious.

"First year, I've found out that Voldemort, the man who killed my parents, was still alive."

"Alive… how?" Kiritsugu was now officially confused. "Didn't you destroy him when you were a baby?"

"His body, yes. His soul, no." Harry replied grimly. "According to Dumbledore, Voldemort couldn't be entirely destroyed due to the rituals he had done when he was young. So it was only his shade - or something - that flew through me when I stopped him from getting the Philosopher's Stone."

Kiritsugu paused. "You mean, someone was _dumb_ enough to _bait_ him with a Mystic Code of the highest order and you just _happened_ to stop him on the way?" His question was skeptical, making him doubly surprised when Harry turned around in Kirei's hold sideways and nodded at him.

"Yeah. How did you know?" Harry asked, taken aback. Kiritsugu had to inhale an extra deep breath. _'Of all the stupid –'_ His exasperated thought was interrupted with Harry continuing the explanation. "In fact, Dumbledore had hid it in the school under the traps. But Quirrel – one of our professors- managed to get through the traps. I and my friends - I mean, Ron and Hermione - tried to warn McGonagall – she is our Transfiguration teacher - but she didn't take us seriously, so we went after him."

"Through the same traps." Kirei's voice was measured, but Harry felt the arms tightening around his body.

"Yeah. The Devil's Snare, flying keys, chess, troll – thankfully it was out of commission – and then a riddle with potions and poisons." He clarified. "But only I got through the last obstacle, because there wasn't enough potion to safely get both me and Hermione through the fire, so I went ahead and met Quirrel. He wanted to have the stone, but it was hidden in the mirror, and he needed me to retrieve it from him."

"You didn't." Kiritsugu's interjection was more of a fact than a question.

"I didn't." Harry agreed. "Turned out he had been possessed by Voldemort, and when the push came to shove, I burnt him down." He admitted grimly. "Voldemort left him to die, but his spirit-shade went through me."

"What happened after?" Kirei's voice rumbled in his ear. Harry reddened. "I fainted." He admitted grumpily, scowling at Kiritsugu's brief smirk of amusement. "Next thing I knew was that I was in the hospital wing. Thankfully, Voldemort wasn't able to get to the Stone, but it was still lost. The exams were cancelled and we went home."

"I don't believe the Stone was _'lost'_." Kiritsugu muttered. "So, the next year?"

"Basilisk." Harry's succinct answer was like a punch in the gut for the two assassins.

"Like one of those beasts with a killer gaze?" Kirei clarified, causing Harry to nod. "And it was once again you who had to clean up the mess?"

"Hey! It's not my fault that I am apparently the only one in the school who could talk to snakes!" Harry huffed out, as he crossed his arms on his chest sulkily.

"Talk to _snakes_." Kiritsugu echoed flatly. "And of course, you couldn't talk it down, causing you to do some death-defying stunt to somehow kill it. _Again_." Harry winced. When described like that, the picture wasn't pretty.

"Well... " He hedged, biting his lip. "Voldemort's diary possessed Ginny, who set the snake on me. Because Voldemort is Slytherin's heir, he could command it. Besides, time was ticking, and if I hadn't killed it, then Ginny would've lost her life force to the diary and hello, Tommy. "He concluded sardonically.

"Tommy? As in, Voldemort?" Kirei quickly cottoned on, the thoughts blitzing through his brain. If the girl was possessed, then –

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Harry sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I see. So why wasn't any adult notified that there was a dangerous beast at loose, leaving you to somehow deal with it?" Kiritsugu just knew he wouldn't like the answer. And he was right.

"We tried." Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. "He wasn't here, and _Lockhart_ – "He spat out the name like it was rotten – "tried to wipe Ron's and my memories and then claim that he was the one to kill the beast. Of course, his version of 'killing' would consist out of some dried snake skin and us being his adoring witnesses of his _heroic_ _struggle_ against the basilisk he had killed, but alas, he would be too late, leaving _poor_ Ginny for dead." He sneered, a hand reflexively covering the wound the fang left in its wake when it pierced his arm.

Kirei noticed the movement. With a lightning fast reflexes, he grabbed Harry's right arm and pulled the fabric up, revealing the scar left in the aftermath. Belatedly, he heard Kiritsugu's sharp intake of breath. "You – How did you survive this?" He breathed out as he extended his senses to check the scarred-over wound. The feedback was not pretty. It felt like he had been dipped in the vat of acid, while being simultaneously frozen, yet the next moment, he felt the wound to heal, only for it to rot in the next instant again. It was a cycle of death and life at its finest – but the worst thing was, he couldn't do anything about it, lest he destroy the fragile balance between the two of them. Kirei never felt so useless before, and only Harry's heartbeat ensured him that his friend was alright. Still, it took him a deep breath or two to center himself back in his mind.

"Fawkes." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Dumbledore's phoenix. He helped to blind the beast and when I was bitten, he cried on the wound and saved me."

"I don't know whether to envy your luck or pity you for having it." Kiritsugu murmured, his eyes still glued on the scar. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was almost afraid to hear the rest of Harry's brushes with death.

"Third year, it was the Dementors."Harry's casual remark snapped their eyes back to his face. Harry's own viridian eyes were haunted with the memories, his face taut with discomfort. "Sirius Black, my godfather, was thought to be after me because he was a Death Eater." He paused, feeling Kirei carefully pull the sleeve back over his previously exposed arm. "The Ministry sent them to patrol the train the students were travelling by on our way to the school. "He grimaced. "You can imagine what had happened next."

"A massacre." Kirei supplied dully.

"Close, but no." Harry retorted softly. "More like trauma all around and I had to relive my parents' deaths for the first time." He admitted, and the hand on his shoulder clenched painfully, but Harry welcomed the sting. It grounded him to here and now, not those terrible moments when he remembered the loss of his true family.

"If those creatures are so debilitating to human minds, why were they stationed on a _train,_ of all places?" Kiritsugu hissed out, incensed. He had his fair share of bad memories, and it outright _galled_ him that those creatures were allowed to come in the proximity of young children.

Harry eyed him sardonically. "I never said wizards were exactly logical with their choices," he pointed out dryly. "But yeah, it was one of their stupider ideas. It took me a fair bit of my time to learn the _Expecto_ _Patronum_ spell to repel the blighters, which helped when they converged on me in one of the matches I've played against the opposite sports team." He was vaguely misleading at that point, and rightfully so. If Kiritsugu got even a sniff on what kind of sport Harry played, Harry didn't even want to think of what the man would do to keep him grounded and thus away from flying through the air, one of the rare things he enjoyed doing in the wizarding world. Kiritsugu's glare told him the assassin knew exactly what he was doing, but for a moment, Harry was safe.

"What next?" Kirei muttered softly, reminding Harry of the other presence against his own. Aside from his small explosion of temper, Kirei was remarkably calm about the issues Harry was talking about, even if he hadn't know that Harry was a wizard for long time.

"At the end of the year, we've found out that he was innocent and saved him." Harry nodded to him, a small smile on his face as he remembered the moment of Sirius flying away from the castle on Buckbeak.

"And the Dementors?" Kiritsugu asked suspiciously. "Your story is a little bit _too_ bland to be true without one or another danger you've landed yourself in at the time." Harry snorted, amused. "Well… There was a bit of time-travel involved, so I could save myself from Dementors firing the _Patronus_ at them."

"And there. Was that so hard?" Kiritsugu snarked, but his hold on Harry's shoulder relaxed. Harry made a face, but held his tongue. "By the way, you keep mentioning that spell. _Expecto…_ something. What does it do?" Kiritsugu asked, intrigued.

Harry perked up. "It's basically a happy thought condensed into a cloud of magic that takes the shape of an animal that represents our protector. For some reason, Dementors are deathly afraid of it."

Kiritsugu paused, then snorted. " _Happy_ thought?" He asked sardonically. "Birds and bees, Harry? _Really?"_

That made Harry blush what he thought to be a neon red color. "It wasn't like that!" He spluttered, smacking Kiritsugu's hand off his shoulder, before frowning at him. "It's more about remembering our happiest memory and - !"

Kiritsugu raised his hands, chuckling. "Easy, tiger. Just teasing here."

"Well don't." Kirei glared at the assassin. "Not until you've meet the creatures." He told him bluntly, but Kiritsugu only nodded and smirked at him. "Noted, _Father_." Kiritsugu mocked him, before turning his attention back to Harry, who was still calming down from his unexpected ribbing.

"Thank you, _son._ " Kirei volleyed back, causing Kiritsugu to make a weirded out face. "I don't want to hear you said that. _Ever."_ Kiritsugu deadpanned.

Kirei just smirked.

"Fourth year?" He prompted Harry, who managed to sneak out from between the two of them and sit on the chair. It was like time had rolled back, what with his messy hair and oversized clothes covering his almost unhealthily skinny frame. Harry tilted his head, causing his bottle glasses' to glint in the light as green eyes peered up at Kirei and Kiritsugu alternatively when the young wizard bit his lip.

"Not so good." He offered them a feeble smile. "First, the Death Eaters attacked up at the sports event, even going so far as to play with some of the normal people that were camping here." His face darkened at the mention. "And of course, nobody did anything." He spat out, glaring at some invisible point between the duo. "But that was just the beginning of the clusterfuck. This year, some wise ass decided it would have been a marvelous idea to resurrect the Triwizard Tournament. You know, for the shit and giggles, money and eternal glory, never mind the high rate of deaths in the tournament. Because someone thought I was given too much of a reprieve previous year, I was being illegally drafted in the competition, against people who were both older and more knowledgeable than me and most importantly, had entered the fucking death trap _legally!"_ He ranted out, finally spitting the vitriol nurtured by his anger and helplessness he had felt at that time.

"So, the school turned against me again. Nothing new, seen that when they found out that I was a Parselmouth." His mouth turned into a bitter line, before he spoke next, his shoulders hunching into a pose of a wounded hawk whose wings were broken. "And then, the tasks. First one, dragons. And to make the event even better, they were nesting mothers."

"You had to steal their eggs?" Kirei inquired, his heart stuttering with some unpleasant emotion again. Harry nodded grimly. "An egg - thankfully, a fake one, otherwise there would have been blood." His jaw clenched. "If it weren't for Hagrid, I would've been a roasted carcass then. He took me out and told me to follow him into the forest, where the dragons had been housed." He gave out an empty laughter. "Turned out the other two champions had known it all along, except Cedric. It was a good thing I've told him what to expect."

"Were you injured?" Kirei asked, his eyes trained on him, and Harry resisted reaching for the shoulder. "Yes. It got me a slash on a shoulder, but that was all. Cedric's got it worse, as his face got almost roasted off when he tried to retreat with the egg." Kiritsugu grimaced. Injuries via fire were never pretty.

"How big was it?" Kiritsugu had to ask. It wasn't a polite question, but he was still morbidly curious. Besides, how was he to gauge the threats in that strange world if he didn't have at least some scope to measure them with?

"Eh, some 50 feet." Harry shrugged self-consciously under their widened gazes. "Fairly big."

"And breathing fire." Kirei deadpanned.

"Don't forget the spiky tail." Harry offered helpfully. "Besides, its hide is spell resistant. Has a fairly hideous temper, too." He resisted a smile when he watched his friends got paler with each word that came out of his mouth.

"How you are still alive?" Kiritsugu breathed out, his hands twitching at his sides. Suddenly ashamed of his juvenile behavior, Harry ducked his head. "Luck. And Hermione." He mumbled out.

 _Hermione again._ Kirei and Kiritsugu frowned, committing the name to their memories. "So, what did you do?" Kirei asked as he casually leaned back against the counter.

Harry swallowed. "I summoned my broom, outflew it and then snatched the egg." He admitted, still shame-faced.

"That… was extremely stupid." Kiritsugu commented with a forced calm.

"But I didn't have time to do anything else!" Harry exclaimed, frustrated, as he finally looked up. "Dragons are not taught about because they are practically impossible to domesticate and they were only there because of the Tournament, and even then, there were dragon handlers to man them!" He snapped his mouth shut, as he tried to rein in his temper.

"But what about modern weaponry?" Kiritsugu persisted as he slammed his hands on the table, now outright glaring at the younger teen. "Surely – "

"Surely **_nothing!"_** Harry exploded, his eyes blazing with anger. "We were stranded in the middle of bloody _Scotland,_ and correct me if I am wrong, but kids are usually not in the knowledge of gun dealers that could suit them up with the rockets and the likes! Besides, even if I had known it, it would be a bloody strange sight to deliver it with an owl post!"

"Kiritsugu. Shut up." Kirei's voice was deathly calm, causing the messy-haired assassin to back off with a mutinous scowl on his face.

"Sorry." He mumbled out before retreating to a chair and plopping down, huffing a bit with embarrassment.

"Forgiven." Harry retorted succinctly before sighing. "The eggs we've retrieved, were our next clue, to get what would miss the most from the lake, in a time frame of one hour." He blushed. "Actually, Cedric was the one to tell me to take a bath with the egg."

Kirei's gut twisted further. That bloody _Cedric_ again. "Clue?" He asked mildly. Harry nodded, grimacing. "Did you know that mermaids have terrible voices?" Kiritsugu blinked. "What do the mermaids have to do with it?" He asked, confused. "That clue was in their language." Harry explained as he tried to tuck his feet into a pretzel as to sustain the warmth He didn't know how, but the kitchen was still unpleasantly cold, and his cup of tea didn't look particularly appealing, what with the tea having been cooled down.

"Long story short, the hostages were people. I managed to save my own, along with one of the other contestants." Harry's eyes softened a little. "Gabrielle shouldn't have been there anyway, what with her being only six years old and fire-natured to boot." He sighed.

"Fire-natured?" Kirei was intrigued. "Was she a Tohsaka?"

Harry shook his head. "No. She's a Delacour." He eyed the priest impulsively. "Ring any bells?" Kirei shook his head. "No. I thought that she may have been because of her element alignment but maybe she is one of the forgotten branches." He explained. Harry immediately shook his head. "Impossible. Gabrielle is a being called _veela_ \- they are usually very beautiful fair-haired women, but have a nasty tendency to get bird-like features and throw fireballs from their hands when pissed off enough."

"… Oh." Kirei nodded, taken-aback at the explanation. "Definitely not a Tohsaka, then." Though he wouldn't mind to introduce one to Tokiomi and see him flail in her presence.

"And your hostage?" Kiritsugu interjected, but by Harry's darkened eyes, he knew that it was a sore topic with the young wizard.

"Ron Weasley." Harry's voice came out in short, clipped out tones. "Major arse because he thought I entered the tournament for glory and money. My first friend in the wizarding world." His uncomfortable shrug caused Kirei to tense. They way Harry spoke about him told volumes to the priest. Hurt, anger, resentment, confusion and sadness were the prevalent ones, and it didn't sit well with Kirei. How could anyone accuse Harry of being a glory hound was inconceivable to the young Executor. "He was the one that accompanied you on your first adventures, wasn't he?"

Harry nodded shortly. "He's also a brilliant chess player, but I think he is jealous of his older brothers because of their achievements." His mind flashed back to that night when they stood before the Mirror of Erised. "But that still doesn't mean he can accuse you of hogging the glory, so to speak." Kirei calmly pointed out. Harry shrugged.

"Third task – " He swallowed thickly "-was supposed to be easy. A labyrinth, filled with magical beasts and a cup in the middle, waiting for the winner to take. But that's where everything went wrong." He whispered, his eyes dulling out again.

"The cup was a Portkey – an object, enchanted to transport a person or an object to previously chosen place. The cup should have transported the supposed winner to the podium where they would be announced Champion and congratulated to." He swallowed as he curled into himself. "I and Cedric were the first ones to finish the obstacles. I suggested to take the cup together, and share the victory, because both of us were from the same school, and he agreed. But then, we were transported to graveyard and Cedric got killed."

Kiritsugu's eyes widened, but he remained silent. This was Harry's story to tell.

 _"_ _Kill the spare."_ Harry voice was hollow, just like his eyes. "I hear those words, even now, and then, there was that sickly green light and Cedric died. And then, Wormtail of all people, resurrected Voldemort."

"Wormtail?" Kirei inquired. Harry's dull eyes hooked on him, leashing his attention to the small form as surely as the sun rose at the east. "Wormtail." Harry repeated. "Otherwise known as Peter Pettigrew - the friend and later on, betrayer of my parents, the one who sold them out to Voldemort so he could kill them that night. A rat in a true sense of the word. He had managed to escape us last year – " He choked out " – and it turned out that he was with his master, helping Voldemort regain his corporeal form."

Kirei's eyes narrowed. _'Necromancy?'_ It wouldn't be anything new, Kirei had his own share of deaths of those practitioners of the art under his belt. Necromancy was a misunderstood field - while it was mostly known because of its abuse, like creating Inferi, and getting the secrets from the dead, it was also the one used to lay the restless to their eternal peace or bridge the chasm between the living and the dead to reassure them that their loved ones are alright. But necromancy, especially in the hands of wizards, was more often than not corrupted and twisted, especially with the art of raising dead for nefarious means and the living ones taking measures to prolong their lives in unacceptable ways.

"They used my blood. Wormtail donated his hand. And the bones of Tom's father." Harry's whisper was a damning one. Kirei's blood chilled. He knew of that ritual. It was an old one, tied to the Assyrian rituals of fertility, but perverted for the needs of the caster.

"And he was reborn. He made me duel him, but by a sheer dumb luck, I've managed to escape him." Harry gulped. "Our wands have the same core – Fawkes' feathers. And when they connected, gold link formed between the two of us." They saw him swallowing harshly, and Kirei sorely wished he would have been with him then - to shield and protect him –

Harry's quiet retelling of the ghosts of the dead supporting his flight and subsequent reaction of the wizarding world when he returned, claiming that the Dark Lord was back and active again –

Both the priest and the Magus Killer silently agreed that it was high time for Harry to be protected for once instead of him doing protecting the idiotic masses that were so finicky with their opinions as to rail against a barely fourteen year old just because he dared to tell the truth in a blind hope to forewarn them of the danger looming on the proverbial horizon.

Those narrow shoulders which had been forced to shield the burden many of adults would claim too heavy for their own backs were slung down, weary, tired and helpless and so very, very small. Harry didn't resist when Kirei pulled him on his chest into an embrace, with Kiritsugu claiming Harry's back and waist and that was telling enough.

Their friend, their very _home_ – because that was what Harry was to them, ever since that fateful summer in a strange land – was on the verge of being broken by those stupid people - but if Kirei and Kiritsugu had any say in it, the world would _burn_ before they would allow them to take Harry away and break him completely.

And if they would have to dirty their hands in the blood of innocents, well, that was just the way life went.

* * *

Kiritsugu honestly expected it would take longer to convince Harry of their allegiance to him. It still surprised him that Harry so easily accepted him being an _assassin_ of all things. Most people would be naturally wary of him, expecting the other shoe to drop. But not Harry. Harry was concerned with Kiritsugu's safety, first and foremost, which both baffled and flattered the young Magus Killer. He shouldn't have been surprised - Harry was a gentle soul, no matter the trials he had gone through. His blood still boiled when he remembered Harry's trials and tribulations in that accursed world.

Right now, he was standing in front of a certain house.

Namely, Privet Drive number 4, the residence of certain family called Dursleys.

Honestly, without Harry's explanations how to get to the right house, Kiritsugu would've been lost in the hell of the cookie-cutter houses strewn across their cookie-cutter streets. Kiritsugu half-expected people would be cookie-cutter too - but much to his relief, at least that was adequately different from house to house.

His dark gaze narrowed minutely when he spotted yet another too intelligent cat peering at him front he nearby house, along with its' strange occupant. Kneazles in the middle of a clearly mundane suburbia were not a good sign for what Kiritsugu intended to do. But no matter –

His attention was snapped back to the door he was standing in front of him opening swiftly, and he came face to face with a scowling woman that reminded him of horse, what with her face and neck.

"Yes?" She barked out impatiently, and her plain brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. Kiritsugu schooled his gaze into an emotionless one, causing the woman in front of him to involuntarily shudder.

"Are you Mrs. Dursley?" He asked, his voice cold and detached.

"Yes, that's me." The woman snapped out. "What do you want?" She fidgeted, her eyes darting up to look at something behind Kiritsugu and then back to the messy haired teen.

 _"_ _Let me enter."_ Kiritsugu demanded, causing her spine to stiffen and her to smile at him courteously, even if baffled a little.

"Oh, of course. How silly of me." She trilled out, like a well-mannered hostess. "We've _expected_ you, really!"

Giving her a short nod, Kiritsugu waited until she backed into the house before he entered.

In a flash, he drew out his gun and shot the strangely clothed man's shoulder, causing him to yell with pain, but Kiritsugu already _moved_ , punching the man's pink-haired accomplice into gut, causing her to wheeze with pain before he kicked the wand out of her hand.

 _"_ _Oh."_ The woman's sigh was tiny, and filled with wonder. Inwardly, Kiritsugu scoffed at her look, full of gratitude, it wasn't a stretch to predict there was some kind of an ambush waiting for him in the house, but he was kind of surprised that the resistance was so weak.

And then, he felt something poke the middle of his back.

"Drop the wand." The voice said to him, causing Kiritsugu to mentally bristle at the order.

 _'_ _Time Alter-Accel'_

In a fraction of a second, even before the man finished speaking, Kiritsugu activated his Aria, grabbed the hilt of the concealed blade he wore on his person and drove it into the gut of the person behind him, causing his would be attacker to emit a pained scream and drop onto the floor, clutching to their stomach.

Mentally, Kiritsugu grimaced. _Accel_ wasn't a thing to play around with, and his limit was five _Accels_ in a day, three if he went _Double Accel_. He despised using this kind of a trump card when someone could see it, but right now, he didn't give a damn.

"Mrs. Dursley. Who are those people?" He addressed the woman while he mentioned to them with his gun, causing them to cringe in fear. The giraffe-necked woman smiled viciously at them. "They are the riff-raff who thought to rob us – " She began, a vindictive little smile on her face, but Kiritsugu didn't have patience for her storytelling.

"Mrs. Dursley. I am aware they are wizards. Why are they here?" The woman stiffened, her eyes widening with fear when she comprehended that her savior just may be the worst nightmare out of the unexpected intruders to her home.

* * *

Petunia Dursley didn't have a good day. Scratch that, last four days were an exercise in patience and keeping the fear and anxiety back. When her beloved Dudders returned from the park, all pale and clammy claiming that there were some kind of things attacking him and that _Harry_ of all people stayed back to enable Dudley's safe passage home –

She waited for Harry to appear, but that no good ruffian apparently decided it was a good day to cause her gray hair what with him being such an ungrateful freak – and the letters didn't help any better, especially with the way they had been coming into the house, announcing that the freak was expelled, then rescinding his punishment and calling him in to attend the disciplinary hearing, and then, just this day, when Petunia thought things couldn't be worse, there were those three freaks, getting into her clean, precious home, claiming to wait for that no good brat of her sister's.

The shrill voice of the house bell was almost welcome, and at once the most wretched sound she ever heard. She was basically a hostage in her home - thank God and all the saints that Vernon had driven her precious Dudley to Marge, however awful the woman was, it was still better than being in clutches of those heathens.

An old, grizzly man, then a dark skinned and hairless one, and then that girl with impossibly pink hair. Petunia dreaded to think what would the neighbors even say if they spotted even the hair of the occupants of her house.

But instead, in front of the door, there stood a young man.

The youth was clad in dark grey trousers with white T-shirt and casual black leather jacket, the collar of his T-shirt wide, leaving the hollow of his throat bare. A completely average person.

But there was something in his eyes - or better, an _absence_ of something in his eyes - that made one Petunia Dursley involuntarily shudder and want to slam the door back, to hell with consequences.

He reminded her of her Grandpa. She hadn't known him in person, but every now and then, her parents had dug out the old family album in hope she would be interested in their past. Petunia enjoyed those stories, once upon a time. But whenever she saw one Reginald Evans, there was unease within her mind, staring into those pale eyes on the still gray and black pictures.

Her mother said that her father was a hard man - a harsh man, toughened by the times he had lived through, and the war he had survived. She also said that his eyes were pale gray with the faintest shades of yellow vowed in and that few of people dared to incite his rage in fear of those strange eyes staring them down. Reginald, she also said, had a temper. He had a long fuse, certainly, but when someone overstepped the bounds, they bitterly regretted it. Lily inherited the man's cheekbones and lips, along with the temper, both of which were also passed to her son. Petunia was just thankful those eyes hadn't made appearance, because they were unnatural and freaky - even with them being so very light in color, she couldn't help but think one was staring into abyss when looking at them.

And this young man, had the same eyes. The eyes of the abyss.

She swallowed, as she traced his form against the background, but avoiding looking into his eyes however much it was possible. No. This man wouldn't be deceived. If she tried it, Petunia was sure the punishment would be swift and merciless.

"You..." She swallowed again. "Are you one of the freaks?"

Dark eyes narrowed, causing her to involuntarily flinch away from the flash of ire she saw in them.

"I believe I was one to ask first." The young man's voice was hard, the words jagged with the strange accent slipping into them, indicating that he wasn't a native speaker.

Petunia felt her jaw clench. She wanted to tell, but she couldn't – not if she wanted to keep her family alive. She wrung her fingers nervously, sorely wishing that this was only one uglier dream in the long series of them. But the pain shooting through her nerves proved otherwise.

"I am here for Potter's belongings." This time, she couldn't help but step back.

"Then you are one of them!" She spat, sneering at the man, while the wizards made a short-lived attempt to surge forward, only to be stopped by their wounds, with the pink-haired dimwit flittering uselessly between the two.

"I am his friend." The man assented, his eyes narrowing, as he aimed the gun at her. Petunia blanched.

Just when did that no-good ruffian have the time to make such dangerous friends?

* * *

Nymphadora Luciana Tonks – forevermore to be called Tonks because that kind of a name she had been cursed by his parents to have was just a no in a polite company - didn't think that the day could go worse than it already had.

When they had been notified that Dementors were spotted in the near vicinity of Privet Drive, her planned leisure evening vanished as if it hadn't even existed to begin with. The panic at the Ministry was bad enough one would think that Who-He-Must-Not-Be –Named besieged it, and it escalated when there was no reply to Dumbledore's increasingly frantic letters.

As such, three days later, when Tonks, Shacklebolt and Moody managed to wiggle out of the duties, they were sent to Privet Drive to check on the kid. All went well - if one counted as the Muggle woman's hysteric reception and insults to their persons consisted as the mission going well.

Everything changed the fourth day in the early afternoon.

Someone rang the bell, and Moody, paranoid little bastard he was, insisted on Petunia to open the door and behave normally.

And then everything went to hell.

Nothing could prepare them for the hurricane in black that stormed in, disarmed _Moody_ of all people, dropped her down with a single punch and gutted Shacklebolt like a fish.

Even worse, the man had done all that with no magic involved. Tonks shuddered, swallowing bile down her throat as she tended to Shacklebolt's wounds the best she could. Not much could be done without having her wand and it was unthinkable to even Portkey Shack in the state he was to St. Mungos, without outright rupturing the man's already spilled innards.

Just what kind of people was Harry connected to?

Swallowing thickly once again, she wanted to go home, wash off the cloying scent of blood, down a vial of Dreamless Sleep and pray to Merlin that everything was just a big, ugly dream.

"Give me Potter's belongings and I will be on my way." The assassin's voice was calm and cold, almost detached, causing Tonks to flinch.

"Why do you want them, bastard?"

Ahh. Good old Moody. Still rebellious and gruffly, but Tonks shot him a warning glare. Had he never heard that it was not the brightest idea to antagonize a man with a gun?

But considering that Moody had lived most of his life in the wizarding society, which was as backward as they come…Tonks felt the urge to face palm. Moody was an excellent Auror, but self-preservation toward Muggles was not his strongest point.

"None of your business." Dark eyes glared at Moody before switching to increasingly fidgety Mrs. Dursley. "I don't have all day, so help right now would be appreciated." He addressed the woman, who frantically nodded but still stood there wrangling her hands. "Is frea –Potter alright?"

Tonks didn't overhear that Mrs. Dursley didn't have exactly stellar image about Harry Potter, but the woman at least tried to curb her tongue when faced with someone holding a gun. Which was kind of sad, considering she spewed all sorts of insults and derogations to Tonks and her two companions when they came to the house.

Dark eyes looked at Petunia Dursley and Tonks unconsciously held her breath.

"He is, no thanks to you." The reply was short and succinct.

"B-But why didn't he come here?" She blurted out, only to flinch when that dark, unsettling gaze slid back to her.

"Because this house is compromised. And considering what he had to deal with before we came, I see it was the right decision to not let him come here."

Tonks bristled. "Why you!" She growled out, snarling at the emotionless young man "Dumbledore said - !"

"-that he was _perfectly safe_ right where he was?" The young man gave out a derisive snort. "To you, his words may as well be a gospel, but in truth, he is nothing but an old, delusional fool. _Blood Wards_ , my ass." The last words were spoken in such an unflattering tone that Tonks couldn't help but jerk back as if shot. "It's a wonder that Harry is even alive at this point. If you don't believe me, research them for yourself and find out exactly why were they _banned_ in the fourteenth century. Better yet, ask the Ward Master if you ever find one. And good luck with that, what with you living in the backward society that thinks it's perfectly _acceptable_ to rear a child soldier because the grown-ups overall are too scared to deal with the rabid dog you all call by the ridiculous nickname of a Dark Lord."

His piece spoken, the still unnamed man turned to Mrs Dursley, who had the air of smug satisfaction at hearing the diatribe. "Mrs. Dursley, if you would?"

Numbly, Tonks could only watch the unlikely pair march out of the room to presumably retrieve Potter's belongings.

 _Banned. Child soldier. Blood Wards._ The three words swirled around her head.

He wasn't right, was he?

However, her heart sank, and Tonks had a bad feeling that no matter the reassurances from Dumbledore, the assassin's words were more true than any of them would like of them to be…

… and the only question was, what would that mean for their future.

* * *

Kiritsugu dearly wanted to shoot the humanized horse with one of the Origin Bullets. Seeing just _where_ Harry's things were stashed - and noting the signs of the cupboard having been occupied for a longer period of time.

An overhead lamp. A small cot. Papers, carefully preserved in one corner, with a childish drawings and scrawling all over them. Two or three abused books. This was not a usual hidey-hole of a small child, but honest to heavens tiny, barely habitable room… and was that a family of spiders skittering across the floor?

 _Yes. It was._ Kiritsugu firmly pushed his temper down with an ease, borne of long practice. An impatient assassin was a dead assassin, after all. But to think that his friend - _his best friend_ \- had lived in such deplorable conditions… it made Kiritsugu's stomach churn with anger, helplessness and self-recrimination. As an assassin, Kiritsugu had seen the very worst of the humankind – he had become the very worst himself, what with killing his mentor and a plane, full of innocent passengers just to save people at large.

One for ten.

Ten for hundred.

Hundred for thousand.

But when it came to Harry… Kiritsugu swore to himself that the entire world would _burn_ before he would allow anything even remotely bad to happen to Harry again. It had been bad enough to feel hollow most of his life without knowing why, and the feeling was contrasted all the more when he found out, even if only by a chance, the one person that chased that feeling away.

And while he wanted to dish out an untold pain and suffering on the Dursley family, it would have to wait this time.

The gathering of Harry's things went relatively quickly, once the horse-faced woman understood that the sooner Kiritsugu would get the asked for things, the sooner her family would be rid of the unwanted burden that was her nephew.

There were a trunk and a cage, and nothing more. It was kind of sad that someone's life could fit into such a small space. Kiritsugu didn't really have a right to speak as such, because he was barely any better himself and that was not even considering Kirei, who as a priest wasn't allowed to have personal belongings outside his priestly garments and weapons needed for his work as an Exorcist.

He left the cage behind, if only because it would be too awkward to explain just why he carried one, especially of the dimensions for a fairly large avian.

"Call the cab." Kiritsugu ordered, prompting woman to frown but nod and scurry away to fulfill the order.

"Where are you taking him?" A feminine voice came from the kitchen's door, prompting Kiritsugu to glance at the pink-haired annoyance heavily leaning against the door frame.

"Somewhere he would be safe. The place is none of your business."

The pink-haired woman bristled, but Kiritsugu didn't give a shit as he bent down to reach for the handle of the trunk, intent to drag it away to the entrance door.

"But Harry has to attend the hearing!" She finally blurted out, causing Kiritsugu to pause and look at her.

"Attend hearing for what?" Kiritsugu was in no mood to play the games, and at the rate the things were going, the wizards were most likely desperate enough to try and stall him however they could. But something in the girl's voice told him she was honest.

"F-For underage magic." The girl - because despite being an Auror, she was still a girl - blurted out, her eyes wide and hair coloring in a mix of blue and red in response to her emotions.

His body straightening out, he looked into her eyes, making her shift with discomfort under his scrutiny.

"If you would've been more through, you would've noticed that he left behind his wand." Kiritsugu's voice was flat. "Are you _telling_ me that he _intentionally_ used magic _without_ the most crucial instrument in the whole affair? While he hadn't eaten for _days_ , sick, with headache so strong that it practically _disabled_ his motor skills to bare _minimum?"_

The girl's eyes bulged with horror.

"No - that isn't – "She blubbered, red in the face with shame intermixing with pallor of the fear. "Was - was he really?" She asked her voice quivering as she choked them out of her throat.

"Ask the Dursleys. Or better, their pig of a son. He would be able to tell you in just what kind of state Harry was, considering he had saved his no good of a cousin from the Dementors hungry for his soul." Kiritsugu snapped at the now cringing girl. "He is not safe here - never was. You've done a piss poor job of protecting him, considering that it was his family's sacrifice that bought you wizarding fools fourteen years of peace. "

"But - " The girl tried again, but Kiritsugu glared at her, causing her mouth to snap shut mechanically.

"He doesn't owe you _anything._ Not you, not to that fool of a Headmaster, not the Dursleys. If anything, you all owe _him_." He growled out, seething, his fingers twitching to curl into a fist to deck the stupid chit one if that would help with knocking some common sense into her brainless skull. "Luckily for you, he is not a person to hold grudges. But I _am,_ and I say _enough."_

The air changed as if something invisible, but present shattered soundlessly, sucking out the security/warmth, and instead replacing it with the feeling of dread and cold, causing the girl to shudder violently, her hair quickly changing into an unsightly grey.

Grabbing the handle, Kiritsugu then proceeded to drag his burden to the door, more than simply irritated with the stupidity of magic wielding people.

Honestly, not even a _lick_ of common sense between the whole lot of them.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the 'verses, I don't own people in general.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Once more into the breach. It may have been a little bit fast, a lot bit harder, but Kiritsugu wanted his own piece, more or less. And his impression of wizarding world wasn't exactly favorable. Some of you asked me very valid questions, so here's a quick recap. As you all know, both Kirei and Kiritsugu are Harry's Guardians. Harry was more than a bit OOC in the last chapter, but that is understandable because a) PTSD, b) he was sick, c) he trusts them, and d) hormones and inexperience, the bane of all teenagers everywhere. Secondly, you will just have to see where the 'verses will take them and how. But got several new ideas out of your speculations, so thanks!

 ** _Warnings:_** _**AU**_ on multiple scales, severely unimpressed Guardians and someone gets burned.

* * *

 _I may be numberless, I may be innocent  
I may know many things, I may be ignorant  
Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands  
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands_

 _('A Thousand Years' by Sting)_

* * *

Despite Kiritsugu's less than positive impression of wizarding world, all three of them were unanimous that something had to be done when concerning Harry's finances.

Kirei was not happy that they had to go to the Diagon Alley, but even he couldn't help but be curious about wizards and their lifestyle. But even he, used to all manners of horrors and strange things couldn't help but be dumbfounded at the skewed reality the Diagon Alley presented to him.

It was as if someone took the buildings from Alice in Wonderland, downsized them and shook them for a good measure, causing them to lean crookedly above the pavement, a strange mixture of modern, antique and medieval that could only be explained as _magic._

Strange potion ingredients. _Check._

Pointy hats. _Check_

Owls. _Check._

Wands. _Check._

Weird shops with frankly painful sounding names. _Check_.

Loss of common sense? **_Definitely_** _check._

He had caught a small glimpse of the newspaper, called _Daily Prophet_ , and he frowned at the slander of Harry's person. If Kirei had any doubts about removing Harry from this insane place, then this was the last brick, cementing them into a mental fortress that would be impossible to take apart.

Eyeing Kiritsugu, the assassin wore a deadpan face of exasperated resignation, showing that it was nothing new to him. At least not as much as to Kirei, at any rate.

Both Kirei and Kiritsugu were clothed in their usual ensemble, even if Kirei had hidden the cross out of precaution. Holy men were not welcome in the wizarding world, considering the bloody history between the Church and wizards, courtesy of some bad apples souring the overall relations. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

Harry was clad in a mix of Kirei's and Kiritsugu's clothes – Kiritsugu lent him one of his t-shirts, while Kiritsugu gave him his spare _gakuran_ \- he also didn't wear glasses, and his lightning bolt scar was concealed with a simple scar concealer Kiritsugu had bought in the nearby drugstore. He wore his school trousers and shoes, prompting both Kirei and Kiritsugu look at each other over the oblivious green-eyed wizard and nod in acknowledgement of the next thing on their list when they would be out of this crazy land.

Shopping.

All in all, their small group looked like three friends wandering the Alley, looking for some fun and games to entertain themselves in the long summer months. With, of course, the mandatory visit to Gringotts first.

The big, almost majestic building was the only one that looked at least relatively normal in all the mish-mash of the houses leading toward it. It reminded Kirei of some of the buildings in Vatican, though Gringotts still had that stainless white color instead of time-and smoke worn-out one of Vatican's own offices.

The goblins tensed then the trio came closer, causing Kirei's eyes to narrow slightly at their behavior.

"They are warriors." Harry mumbled to him as he curtly nodded to the diminutive beings. "Anyone wanting to rob them would have to be bonkers to do so, especially when they are the only bank in the wizarding world. And Kiritsugu, _no_." He addressed the black-haired assassin sternly, remembering only too well just how was Kiritsugu with the unwinnable challenges.

"But _Harry!"_ Kiritsugu gave him a small pout, however Harry remained stern. "I was just checking – "

"Kerry, _no_." Harry eyed him, exasperated and affectionate at once, and Kirei felt the warmth in his chest once again at their small banter. He suppressed a smirk at Kiritsugu who was at the moment shooting a glare at Harry for being called the diminutive of his name.

The building was as imposing in the inside as it was outside, with the only difference of the inside being done in the dark colors, enhancing the color of rubies and various other jewels Kirei had seen even more.

They stepped in one of the lines. Thankfully, there were not many people at the moment, and they were in front of the teller relatively quickly.

"I am here to inquire about the state of my finances." Harry said to the teller, while handling the creature a small golden key. The teller was small, with wide, pointy ears and all black eyes, with long, almost spindly fingers and clothed into a simple but still ancient looking outfit, likening to the ones from the time of the wars for American independence, it's dark colors enhancing the goblin's pale face.

The teller's eyes narrowed as he took in Harry's appearance, causing both Kirei and Kiritsugu stiffen in response.

"The key matches. But appearance doesn't not." The small being sneered at them, causing Harry to blink. "I don't wish to be mobbed by idiots." He snapped back, green eyes narrowed with irritation. The teller paused in his peruse of the key, his right eye twitching slightly at the wizard's affronted tone.

There was a tense moment, and then, the goblin's lips slowly peeled away, showing a row of pointy teeth.

"Well said. " He shuffled the papers. "Though it's kind of strange you are here when Ministry is holding the trial for you in ten minutes." Kirei stilled when both Kiritsugu and Harry blanched, one with fury and the other with terror.

"Trial?" Harry managed to squeak out. He visibly gathered himself together. "But I had to protect my cousin from the Dementors!"

The goblin sneered at him. "Of course. As an emancipated wizard, you are held accountable for your actions in front of the whole Wizengamot." He tapped one of the papers with his spindly finger, pushing it toward the shell-shocked green-eyed teen. "Your vaults are all accounted for, though not for long if you don't show at the hearing." Meanwhile, Kirei's brain worked with a blitzing speed, putting the facts together.

"You say he is emancipated. Tournament?" He addressed the goblin, which blinked up at him.

"Tournament, Executor." The goblin grunted, something almost akin to respect in his eyes. Kirei hummed.

"Can his emancipation be reversed?" The question caused Harry to blink with confusion, but Kiritsugu's eyes lit up with the understanding. The goblin shook his head. "No. The Goblet had chosen, and the organizers affirmed it, there's no reversal."

Kirei then turned to his friend. "Harry. Do you want to remain in England?"

"What do you – " Harry interrupted himself in the middle of question as he finally comprehended Kirei's intent. His baffled stare slowly transformed into a calculating, and Kirei dare say it, even a little vengeful. "Not particularly. What do you have in mind?"

Kirei felt an answering smirk stretch over his face. "Italy."

Harry stared at Kirei for a moment, and then he turned to the goblin and nodded. "Can you close down all the vaults here and relocate them to Italy? And I will need the passport – "

"Done and done." The goblin interrupted him, a little too gleefully in Harry's opinion as he snapped his fingers. "Just be sure to announce your intention of never returning here loud and clear when in front of them." The grin he now wore was all but reassuring for the fools in question.

"Oh. Thank you." Harry paused as he collected the papers the small creature offered to him. "And…" He paused, biting his lip, obviously conflicted about something, before steeling himself and looking at the grinning teller. "If you want the Gryffindor's sword, I have it on a good authority it's in Dumbledore's cabinet at Hogwarts."

The goblin's grin was temporarily frozen on his face, before it was wiped off of it as if it had never been on it at all. "How do you know that?" He snapped, beady black eyes intently glaring at Harry as he leaned forward. "We've been searching for it for six hundred years and now you tell us it was in front of our very noses all the time?" His voice became graver with each spoken syllable, but Harry was not afraid.

"I pulled it out of the Sorting Hat when I had to fight the Basilisk. On my name, so I swear."

The goblin's face became utterly blank, before he barked out something in his own language, spurring his colleague to stand up and sprint to the back of the bank, obviously in search of something, the big pile of jewels he had been checking rolling on the desk and glittering in the light.

"You've done us a great favor, young warrior." The goblin nodded to Harry, and for the first time, Kirei saw respect in the creature's eyes. The other goblin came back, carrying a small case, which he have to his colleague before scrambling back onto his own chair again and perusing then next gem for any failures.

The goblin then opened the case, showing them four bracelets, all of them made out of a white crystal and rose gold and seemingly too fragile to touch, never mind wear.

"Portkeys." The goblin stated gruffly. "To the Ministry and back here." He pushed the case to them, clearly wanting them to pick the pieces up.

Kirei eyed them warily. He had heard about Portkeys from Harry, and his impression of that particular travelling device was anything but positive. He opened his mouth to object, but Harry was faster.

"Thank you for loaning them to us. I promise we will turn them back to you as soon as we return." He said, his face earnest and Kirei wanted to hide his face. Honestly, didn't the boy have any self-preservation?

The goblin made a small hacking cough, before he sharply waved them to hurry. Harry complied, and with great reluctance, both Kirei and Kiritsugu had done the same.

"The password is _Fire,_ returning one is _Opal._ Use it outside the bank. Now go!" The goblin snapped, prompting Harry to hastily nod at him before hurriedly walking to the exit, both Kirei and Kiritsugu right after him.

* * *

"Harry. Are you sure?" Kiritsugu spoke first, dark eyes concerned. He had been livid when he heard the bastards had gone ahead with the trial, but his main concern right now was Harry.

"Of my decision?" Harry eyes him, green eyes jaded and his mouth set into a firm line. "Damned sure. There's nothing else for me anyway, and if they refuse to listen to me, I won't be the fool to try and save them when the time comes. _Fire."_

And the world around them vanished, only to rematerialize in the next second, startling the receptor into a small shriek when they appeared in front of her desk.

* * *

"… and in conclusion we recognize – "

A pompous, nasal voice was droning on when they screeched to a stop in front of the door, Kirei smoothly letting Harry out of the princess carry he had him in as both he and Kiritsugu ran through the corridors. Harry sent him a dirty look, but Kirei was unperturbed. They had to be on time for the hearing and it would be counterproductive to let Harry run when the teen was still so weak from the Dementor exposure.

Harry breathed in, rubbed the concealer off the scar and quickly brushed the unruly strands back with his hand, not that it made them any less messy.

"The accused – "

Harry let himself in, his spine straight and chin high.

"Present."

He called out loudly, before his throat once again betrayed him, prompting him to give in a painful cough.

And lo, the pandemonium reigned.

* * *

The benches above made Kiritsugu's teeth itch uncomfortably. The sea of the plum robes made him want to say several inappropriate remarks about their wearers being too theatrical for their own good.

Overall, the feeling of being small and insignificant was utterly lost on him in the knowledge just how farcical that kangaroo court was. Instead, he saw them like bunch of loud and annoying monkeys out of tiger's reach, safe only because the tiger in question was unable to reach up high enough to pull them down and then do some real damage.

"Harry Potter. You are late." A simpering voice of a woman called out, calming some of the noisy participants, and turning their attention to Harry, causing Kiritsugu to bristle even further, his temper switching on a hair-trigger in the case some idiot would try to do anything to Harry. Sadly for Kiritsugu, and luckily for the wizards, this was not the case… Yet.

Instead, Kirei was the one to step forward, and lifting his head to look at the judge, looking for all he was worth like he had all the rights to be there, even clad in a _gakuran_ in the sea of the plume colored robes on the gallery.

It was an impressive sight.

"Our apologies, but we got the notice in Gringotts barely ten minutes prior the given time. Considering the circumstances, I am asking this august body why is that the sentence was ready to be spoken and carried out without the accused even having the chance to defend himself?" Kirei's voice echoed through the room, prompting a new buzz and the woman with simpering voice to glare at the priest, before she gathered herself, and gave him a sickly sweet smile.

"The accused can speak for himself, does he not?" She purred out, smiling a small, patronizing smile at Kirei. Kiritsugu was immediately tempted to shot her toad-like face off. But then, he felt Harry's hand on his shoulder, and calmed down again, listening to the next round of verbal jabbing between the priest and wizards.

Kirei kept his equilibrium, his gaze switching to the despicable creature that was probably an unholy cross between some unfortunate frog and a particularly dumb demon. Inhaling, he spoke out again, his voice carrying across the room.

"Of course. But in this case, I speak for him, both as his defendant and as witness." This sparked a wave of confusion and outrage among the crowd once again, the older men and women humming and murmuring between each other and as far as Harry could see, there was no sympathy for his case.

 _"Silence!"_ A stern female voice rang out. "And why is that? Also, state your name, sir." She was sitting on the judge's right side, glaring down at three friends, even if her gaze didn't carry the animosity or ennui most of the other participants' ones did.

Kirei bowed to the stern, pale-faced, blue-eyed woman who glared at him. "My apologies. I am Kirei Kotomine, and I will speak for Harry Potter because Dementor's attack aggravated his injuries from the Third task. He is also still recovering from the fever."

"And how, pray tell, can we be sure that you are speaking the truth?" The woman - _toad_ \- with sickly sweet voice spoke yet again, and this time, Kirei saw her. More like saw a toad in a human guise. "You are an unknown person, not even having a proper title or education to participate in this hearing.

"Like Madam Umbridge said – "The judge coughed as he glared at Kirei. "You've not proven your credentials and if you are a witness, you cannot assume the position of defendant. Surely you know that much?" His small jab caused some of the members to chuckle in derision at Kirei's lack of knowledge.

"I do." Kirei's calm voice seemed to confuse the jury. "But I am here in the capacity of the Voice. Anything you want to ask him, ask me, and I shall answer as he would." The judge bristled, but before he could decry Kirei's claim, he was being interrupted.

"The Voice?" The stern woman from before asked, her blue eyes, if possible even sharper. "Mister Kotomine, are you aware of what this entails?"

"I do." Kirei's own voice was flat and unamused. Kiritsugu mentally cringed. Oh, this was _so_ not good. And the stern woman's words affirmed his bad feeling even more. "In doing so, you are forfeiting your own claim as his witness and defendant. Last chance, mister Kotomine. Are you sure?" The woman asked once again.

"I am aware, madam." His reply sent a wave of murmurs across the tribunes, some confused but most of them derisive. The woman nodded a sharp nod.

"Then I, Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE, recognize one Kotomine Kirei as _Vox Proxia_ for Harry James Potter to answer as he would. Scribe, note that.

"Noted." A gangly, glasses-wearing redhead remarked, before scrawling notes on the parchment in front of him.

"And what of the second person here? I can understand mister… Kotomine being in those sacred chambers, but not this man." Another voice piped up, causing Kiritsugu to silently bristle at the aristocrat with pale blond hair looking down on them, literally and metaphorically speaking.

"Lord Malfoy is right. What are _you_ doing here?" The judge snapped at Kiritsugu. However, the assassin was immovable. Better and stronger tried to intimidate him, and this second-hand power play in comparison with them was boring and bordering on a joke.

"I am Potter's bodyguard. Considering that no one had accrued any kind of protection for him, even knowing that he is still in danger from the Death Eaters and other undesirable elements, I took this task upon myself as I've sworn it to him." His voice was cold and measured, the voice of a Magus on a mission, which flustered the judge, and made the spectators shift and mutter between themselves.

"Preposterous! Potter is safe enough here!" The judge barked out, banging his gavel as if to underline the importance of his words. "He is an accused party, so you are not needed!"

"Shut it, Fudge, he has all the rights to be here!" Another old lady barked out, this one with sharp brown eyes and all too old looking face, her glare causing Fudge to draw back with indignation.

"Madame Longbottom -! "He puffed his chest out, only for lady Longbottom to make a sharp gesture with her hand, as if shooing a cockroach. "He is Potter's bodyguard. He doesn't have any voice in this affair, because the accused is only Harry Potter, thus we can extrapolate his bodyguard was acquired at a later date. Or do you have so little brain as to not recognize even that little fact?" Her focus shifted to reluctantly impressed Kiritsugu. "And you, young man. What is your name?"

"I am Kiritsugu Emiya, madam." Kiritsugu didn't know why, but he made a shallow bow in her direction. "I came into Potter's employ three days after the date of his supposed crime."

The judge apparently had had it. "Enough of this farce! Let's begin the trial for I am sure this august body has more important things to do than to listen to a spoiled brat!" He snapped out, banging the gavel once again. "Accused, sit on the chair!"

Harry warily did so, only for the chains to snap around his arms and legs, chaining him to the contraction, causing him to flinch at their coldness. Kiritsugu made a motion to stop the proceedings, but Kirei's frown stopped him cold.

Still, that didn't make him feel any better. But for now, he would desist and accede to this kangaroo court's demands.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percival Ignatius Weasley. The accused was allowed the right to _Vox Proxia_ , one Kotomine Kirei." Fudge rattled out coldly, before his eyes zeroed on the priest.

"Where was the accused in the midday of the August the second?" he barked out, his voice intentionally harsh and loud, designed to intimidate. Shame that Kirei didn't feel an iota of that feeling, though.

"The park in the Little Whining." Kirei's answer was short and succinct, causing Fudge to frown, but he continued.

"Did the accused use magic?" He snapped again, nervous brown eyes glaring holes into Kirei's empty ones. Kiritsugu forced himself not to tense. Of course, the bastards didn't play by rules.

"No." But neither did Kirei.

The denial caused a short silence in the room before the shouts and questions began their avalanche, only to be halted by Fudge himself who once again used the gavel with great prejudice.

"Why did you say no? The Department of Misuse of Magic had gotten a notice that the accused had performed magic at precisely 2.30 in the afternoon in front of a Muggle witness. Are you trying to deny their claims?" Fudge sneered, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

"I honor their expertise in this case. However, I wonder just how they got such data, when Potter was firstly without wand and secondly, in the company, however dubious it was, of his cousin, who already knew of magic." Kirei shot back, making a step forward, causing the Fudge to unconsciously lean back, even if he had the tribune's advantage of height over Kirei.

"This – "Fudge was temporarily at a loss of words, his previously pale face flushing an angry red. "This is not important! What is important is that he had used magic in front of a Muggle – " He barked out, only to be interrupted by the priest again.

"Are you implying, and in front of this honorable body, that you knew that Potter had used magic without his wand?" Kirei's voice was calm and casual, as if he were discussing weather, but his eyes were anything but, zeroed on the Fudge like snake's on a particularly juicy prey.

"Of course! But him doing it wandless is absurd!" Fudge snapped. Kirei nodded as if Fudge had just given him a vital piece of information.

"But he used it in front of his cousin. Who is his family. The family, which I may add, already knew of magic. Or do you prosecute any Muggleborn who uses magic in front of their immediate family?" Kirei methodically drove the fact in, as if it was a nail.

Fudge was visibly flustered. "Well, no, but – "

 _"Hem, hem."_ A delicate cough came from an indelicate person. "I was under impression that prosecution was the one to ask the questions." _'That toad again',_ Kiritsugu noted to himself sourly, as he forcibly restrained himself from shooting it. Just one more proof that wizarding world lost its collective sense, what with them allowing a toad of all things to be present, and in such a high position, too.

(He didn't make any promises not to shoot her outside this farce of a trial, though.)

Kirei tilted his head in the woman's direction. "Of course, madam. May I ask who are you?"

"I am the Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge. " The toad-like woman sent him a saccharine smile, obviously taken in by Kirei's charms. Kiritsugu very carefully exhaled and kept his fingers far away from his guns, which was a chore all in and of itself. There was something slimy about her, a mixture of cunning and cowardice that was just grating at his nerves. Her kinds of people had a sixth sense for survival, and were pain in the ass to hunt down if they ever escaped his sight.

"Mister Kirei. You claimed that your charge had been attacked by a Dementor. Which is quite an absurd claim, seeing that all the Dementors are under the Ministry's extremely tight control. Surely, you had to exaggerate the claim?" She simpered, sending Kirei another sweet smile.

Oh, this bint was more than deserving of one of his Origin Bullets. Kiritsugu ground his teeth. Even if it would've been a waste to use one of those on her, but considering that use of it afforded the shot person a very agonizing death, it may be well worth it. It was just Kiritsugu's misfortune and her luck that her time of death apparently hasn't come yet.

"I fear the proof may be too much for your delicate soul." Kirei glibly replied, and like it or not, Kiritsugu was impressed by the bastard's oratory skills. Reluctantly impressed, mind.

"So you say you have no proof." Umbridge hummed as she leaned forward, crossing the fingers under her chin, looking for all she was worth, like an oversized, smug toad.

Kirei sighed. "The proof, if you will, ought to be Potter alone. If this honorable body recalls, up until now, there hadn't been any magical disturbances in the area he lived in, with the exception of his second year of schooling, and even then, he was pardoned because the actions then were caused by a third party. So in the light of this, I am asking you - why would he have any reason to use magic, when he clearly knew that he wasn't to use it in presence of Muggles?"

"He wouldn't have." Amelia Bones muttered, her eyes thoughtful.

"No, he wouldn't." Kirei agreed, his voice soft. "Except… if he truly felt that he was in danger." His conclusion came out in a harder voice, a voice that didn't allow for any misinterpretations.

"But he was supposedly attacked by Dementors." The pale-haired aristocrat - lord Malfoy, if Kiritsugu remembered correctly - interjected, his gray eyes narrowed in thought.

Kirei nodded. "Yes."

"And if I recall right," Madam Bones eyed him shrewdly. "You said he didn't have his wand."

The priest inclined his head slowly. "It is so."

"Yet you are saying he drove off the Dementors. And that the ultimate proof is too much of an evidence to show it." The voice of head of DMLE's expressed the incredulity of the statement well enough, even if the woman's face didn't reveal just how baffled Kirei's seemingly controversial claims made her.

"Yes." Kirei, Kiritsugu noted, was still calm as cucumber. The people in attendance, however, were not. The crowd was becoming restless, and Fudge especially was more than kind of twitchy.

A short pause.

"Are you trying to take us for fools?" Lord Malfoy finally snapped out. "You can't have it both ways!"

"I am in doubt this piece in evidence would be counted as a proof, simply because it's too outlandish to be believed." Kirei was still unruffled and still, Kiritsugu noted, in front of Harry, not allowing the judge and the people in the front a clear view of his charge.

"That is for us to decide. Show us the proof!" Lord Malfoy demanded, his compatriots nodding at his forceful order. Kiritsugu made a mental note to ask more about him later. The man was obviously powerful and could cause trouble at a later date. The Magus Killer was reminded of those Clock Tower fools – all high and mighty, drunk on the power of their position, but unaware that their house of card could be swept from underneath them just as easily as any other … it was only the matter of time and method.

"If you insist." Kirei's voice was cold. He then reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out something that resembled of black smoke crossed with ratty cloth all the while radiating cold and death, causing the aristocrat to recoil and the toad-like woman shriek with terror.

Lady Bones was deathly pale, her hand covering her mouth for a moment before she gathered her nerves. The sight had apparently visibly rattled her, though Kiritsugu couldn't fathom just what was so scary about a bunch of old robes that emitted an ominous black smoke and some kind of a cold. He sneaked his grace at Harry, who was paler than Kiritsugu would've liked, but his head was held high, green eyes glaring at the piece in Kirei's hand ferociously, as if attempting it to burn by the sheer power of will alone.

"I-Is this what I think it is?" Bones choked out, her voice halting and high with disbelief and fear.

"Yes." Kirei's answer was merciless in its simplicity. "And _you,_ sir. If you would be so kind as to say what I am holding in my hand right now for the rest of this august body…" He prompted the aristocrat firmly.

The aristocrat in question looked like he wanted to be anywhere both where he was right now, his eyes still glued on the mass of black smoke/ratty cloth in Kirei's hand. "It's – " he swallowed harshly, the small noise almost swallowed by a frightened murmur of their audience. "A Dementor's cloak." He concluded, his voice but a whisper.

"Balderdash, I say!" Fudge blundered, even if his face was now ashen with terror. "This is simply – "

"Fudge. Be competent for once and _shut up_." Lady Longbottom was just as shaken as everyone else, but her voice already regained its signature steely undertone. "And you, Kotomine. How did you come in the possession of this?"

For a moment, Kirei was silent. Then, the young priest looked at the lady in question. "I stashed it away after I killed them." The admission immediately raised every witch and wizard in the audience on their feet.

 _"SILENCE!"_ Madam Bones' voice boomed over the crowd, successfully cowing them into submission, even if now all of the listeners had both fearful and loathing expressions on their faces when looking at Potter's unassuming defender.

"If I may break the protocol - Potter. Was what he said, true?" She asked the green eyed wizard sitting on the chair, her eyes so intense so that it seemed they would burn him the very moment he would dare to speak a like, with how intently she gazed at him.

Tearing his gaze off the Dementor's cloak in Kirei's hand, Harry looked at the DMLE Head and nodded.

"This is not enough. Speak up, boy!" Bones' demand caused Harry to flinch and his two bodyguards to glare at the DMLE Head, causing her to blanch under their combined gazes.

"Yes. It is." Harry's raspy voice was heard, even as quiet and low as it was. She swallowed and continued the questioning.

"And are you sure they were Dementors?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't have a wand?"

This prompted the green-eyed teen to finally glare at the woman. "Madam. Use _Priori Incantato._ Furthermore, I will swear any oath you need me to that I didn't use the wand this summer. At. All."

A grave silence fell down on the participants of this little verbal stand-off as the adults stared at the trio standing - or, in Harry's case, sitting - on the podium below them.

The uncomfortable silence was once again cut by Bones, who coughed embarrassedly.

"All in favor of rescinding the charges?" Her voice was uncomfortable, but resolute.

There was a small sea of wand tips lit green.

"All against?"

The red tips were few, mainly from Fudge and his supporters, however few they were.

"Harry James Potter, stand up." Fudge's voice was unsteady, but becoming firmer with each syllable, the man obviously coming to some sort of conclusion about the matter.

The chains reluctantly rattled off of Harry's body, hiding in the chair with almost sulky air, and Harry staggered up with Kiritsugu's help.

"The Wizengamot found the accused, one Harry James Potter, defended via his _Vox Proxia_ , Kotomine Kirei, not guilty of the charges. Kotomine Kirei, however, is guilty of willful manslaughter of Dementors and as such should submit to the Department of Mysteries for his sentence – "

"Oh. Hell. No." This time, it was Harry who interrupted the idiot, green eyes blazing. "I, Harry James Potter do hereby claim Kotomine Kirei as one of my own, in recompense for the Life Debt created when he saved me from the Dementors. You don't get to send my friend to be dissected just because he killed a couple of soul sucking creatures that someone sent after me to fulfill their idiotic grudge just because I dared to speak the truth!"

"Mister Potter! How dare you! He is a Minister of Magic - !" The Toad - Kiritsugu would forever think of the horrible woman as a toad, no sense to remember her name - abruptly stood up, her face screwed up in a sneer as she tried to low brow the green eyed wizard standing on the podium.

"If he is a Minister of Magic, then I _quit!"_ Harry snapped back, and then coughed; placing a palm in front of his mouth, but even that wasn't enough, as the blood spattered across the expanse of the palm's skin like the finest lace in red. Once again he lifted his head, his face pale with effort it took to speak so loudly and the specks of blood still on his lips, green eyes feverishly bright, but he didn't dislodge Kiritsugu's hand off his right shoulder as he faced the tribunal which was willing to throw him to proverbial wolves if there had been even a smidgen of possibility.

"I've _had_ it! I owe you damn sheep nothing - and you call me your savior! If I recall my lessons about the Life Debts right, then all of you fools owe my family - and by proxy, me - your very _lives!"_

Harry's words stopped the masses short, the people now eyeing the livid teenager with a mixture of caution and terror. It seemed that they finally comprehended that they went too far this time.

"I _. Quit_. I quit the wizarding world. I quit Hogwarts. And I damned well _quit_ that senselessness you have the _galls_ to call Ministry of Magic! My parents hadn't sacrificed themselves for my life only for me to squander their last gift to me at your leisure! Deal with your problems yourselves and leave me the hell alone!"

That said, Harry abruptly turned around and marched out of the chamber that was supposed to be his political grave, his two friends right beside him, leaving behind outrage, confusion, terror, and regret.

The doors closed after them quietly, a counterpoint to Harry's loud explosion scant moments earlier.

"Harry?" Kirei eyed the small wizard, concerned. "Are you - are you alright?" He asked, hesitantly as he fumbled with his hands, wanting to heal Harry's throat, but holding himself back because there was not the right place nor time for it.

Pained green eyes looked up at him, and Harry offered the priest a small smirk. "Better than in a good damned while." He rasped out, coughing a little and making a grimace at the pain. Something within Kiritsugu's chest loosened at the admission - he knew that Harry wasn't alright - not by a long shot, but he would be. And Kirei's eyes, empty as they were, had a small undercurrent of softness within, a tiny smidgen of wonder than someone had cared.

"So shall we – " Kiritsugu's question was interrupted by a hurried set of steps heading their way, causing the trio to stiffen with alarm and the assassins' eyes harden as they saw the old centenarian wizard with a long white beard and truly hideous sky blue and electric pink robes hurrying toward their charge, a small twinkle in those blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses.

"Harry, my boy!"

By the way Harry's shoulders stiffened and half-hunched, the owner of this voice had just earned themselves a top spot on both Kiritsugu's and Kirei's shit list.

Because it was the only and one Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

"Dumbledore." Harry's own reply was just shy of hostile. "What do you want now?"

This made the old man blink with surprise, before he schooled his face in a shape in a forgiving smile. "I am here to act as your defense. Come on, we are already late – "He motioned to the green-eyed teen with a grandfatherly gesture as he prepared to enter the room the trio had exited scant moments prior.

"You're too late. The trial has already ended." Kiritsugu's words took the wind out of the old man's proverbial sails, causing him to gape for a moment. Subtly, the assassin moved so that he was in the old man's way to his gaze of Harry, causing the ancient wizard to frown at his audacity.

"And what was the verdict, if I may ask?" The concerned expression made itself at home on the wizened face, and Kiritsugu wanted to gag.

"You may not." This time, it was Kirei who replied. "Now excuse us, we are already late to our meeting."

"Wait. Where are you leading Mr. Potter?" The old wizard drew himself up, and suddenly, he wasn't a frail, doddering man anymore. But an old, powerful one and just fucking _great_ –

"Nowhere I don't want them to. They are my friends and allies, which is a lot more than I could say for you and your ilk." Harry's voice was on the verge of being a whisper, but cold, so very cold it made the wizard flinch.

"Forgive me, Harry, but you are still too young to comprehend the complexity of everything you are unwittingly entrenched in." The old man was playing his part to perfection, Kiritsugu noted with disgust. All grandfatherly, an understanding elder to the follies and impatience of youth, ready, willing and able to shield the youth in question and only demanding blind obedience in turn. "What I've done was for the greater good, to protect you – "

"For _whose_ greater good, Dumbledore? If it weren't for my two friends here, I would've been a cold corpse bereft of my soul four days ago." That made the old man flinch and a small cloud of grief darkening his face for a moment before he once again gathered his wits.

"As it is, I can't allow you to go anywhere with them because – "

"- Because they are dangerous? Because you don't know them? Because unlike Hermione and Ron, you don't have them under your thumb?" Harry droned, quirking his eyebrow and not caring a whit that he interrupted the authority of the Magical England in the middle of the speech.

"I am still your Headmaster, Harry. And I owe it to your friends to keep your safe." Dumbledore was firm, even if a little bit impatient, before he smiled and winked secretively. "And a certain old dog is waiting for you – "

"No thanks."

That stopped the old sorcerer cold. Up until now, Harry was relatively easy to predict - as an orphan in a bad household, he was bound and determined to hang onto the person who offered him even a scrap of kindness like a human-shaped barnacle, yearning for yet another scrap, for just one more time.

Sirius Black was Harry's shining hope that someday, when all that shit would be over and done with, he could live with his godfather - a person who genuinely wanted him in their house and as a part of his family.

But now, Harry smoothly and swiftly declined Dumbledore's offer to come see Sirius… which was a very worrying prospect. A prospect Dumbledore didn't like.

"My dear boy, surely you don't mean that." He smiled at the exhausted teenager kindly, only now seeing the worrying pallor of his skin and the eye bags, along with his face and body being too lean to be healthy. "Come, let's get you to a safe place, you dearly need both food and rest. I am sure Molly would be delighted to have you in her care." Harry, however, didn't make any move to do his bidding, his eyes tired but expression on his face, however closed it was, was firm and resolute.

"I am not going with you anywhere. It hasn't done me any favors and I would rather be alive for a long time coming than following you into the newest prelude of a death trap." Harry's reply was quiet, but no less intense. "Now, if you don't mind – actually, I don't care if you do - we have our own appointment to keep."

The ancient wizard frowned. "Are you sure, my boy? Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley would be very disappointed to hear that – "

Green eyes, previously dull with exhaustion flared up with rage, before they became even colder than before.

"So it was _you_ who kept them from me?" Harry hissed, stepping forward, his face now a picture of someone of a verge on homicide, enough to make Dumbledore step back in alarm. "Well, you know what, Dumbledore. You can stick your well-meaning offers up your ass. Like I told the kangaroo court inside, I _quit._ Sort out that shitstorm of a mess I am apparently too young to know about but not too young to keep from the sheeple, yourselves. I am done being your kid soldier. I. Am. Done. _Opal_."

And with that single word, Dumbledore was left alone in front of the door to the courtroom, staring at the vacated space in front of him at a loss and regretting all the mistakes that had led to this point.

* * *

The trio reappeared in front of the Gringotts, both of the assassins barely having the time to catch Harry from collapsing on the ground. This method of transportation didn't agree with them, and it had been even worse on Harry. Casting him a concerned look, they gently pulled him up and coaxed him to slowly step into the bank.

It didn't take long, even if it seemed a small eternity that they were in front of the same goblin than before.

"Done already?" The goblin quirked his eyebrow, his completely black eyes emotionless.

"Done." Harry croaked out nodding. He weakly tried to get the bracelet off his wrist, only for the goblin to shake his head.

"Keep those. I think you will find them very useful." The goblin gave him a fanged grin as he flicked with his quill, the feathery tip glinting golden in the light. "I've taken the liberty of arranging transport for you." An amused glint appeared on the withered face when Harry made a grimace in anticipation of yet another portkey. He hopped off the chair and motioned the trio to follow them deeper into the bank. They passed numerous doors, with the goblins occasionally entering or exiting from them. Kiritsugu tried to keep the mind man of where they were going, but it seemed that it was completely illogical sequence, causing him to gain only the beginning of a headache. Kirei didn't react, just followed the small being, while he supported Harry on the other side. Finally, the small group stopped in front of the dark grey gate, with the F/0 sign above it in ornate silver letters.

"This is the employee entrance for Italy, Florence. Gornuk had already been notified of the changes and will be the goblin in charge of your vaults over there. May the enemies weep in your wake and your honor be stainless, Harry Potter."

Giving them a sharp not, the goblin touched the dark grey surface that began to shimmer in the light and then motioning them to go through it.

"Same to you." Harry gave the goblin a tired grin. "Give the bastards here hell for me, for they deserve nothing less."

The last sound the three of them heard was the goblin's delighted bark of laughter before the soft light temporarily blinded them and then, they were on the other side in a wide atrium with a grumpy looking, one-eyed goblin looking at them impatiently.

* * *

Three hours later, a sleeping Harry in Kirei's arms and all of their possessions shrunk in Kiritsugu's pocket, the two assassins entered one of Kirei's old haunts in the old part of the bustling city.

The room was small with an ancient stone floor and low wardrobe, housing only simple, if uncomfortable looking bed, a simple desk and a rickety chair with a cross on the wall. Kiritsugu quirked his eyebrow, but said nothing. He was well used to this kind of haunts, as he had had a couple of them himself. However, with Harry being on the verge of having a fever, it may have not been an ideal commodity.

His thoughts were interrupted when Kirei passed to him Harry's sleeping body and then stepped into the right corner of the room and kneeled. He then dug out the loose stone there. Drawing a blade out of his pocket, he quickly sliced his palm and when the blood welled out, he smeared the underside of stone before shoving it back on its place. Kiritsugu felt a shiver of intense discomfort skitter up his spine for a moment - it was as if he had been drowning in static discharge and extreme cold for a moment, before it vanished.

"Bounded field?" He quirked his eyebrows.

"One cannot be too cautious or too safe." Came Kirei's placid answer as the priest offhandedly healed his own wound before motioning Kiritsugu to place the precious burden in his arms on the bed. Kiritsugu did so, wincing at the offended croak of the bed in question. Harry wasn't the heaviest around - honestly, he was skinnier than a bird, but the bed's ominous complaint didn't make Kiritsugu any more trusting of its holding capabilities.

He watched as Kirei knelt beside the bed and placed his hand on Harry's forehead, frowning in concentration. The pale blue and golden glow came out, sinking into Harry's skin.

His eyes flicked to the window. It was already late evening in Italy, when it had been still afternoon in England. The heat of the day was still rising off the stones though Kirei's own room was turned away from the sun and thus pleasantly cool. The house that was their temporary lodging was in one of the poorer quarters that had been built in the Middle Ages, the sounds of people talking and occasional noise drifting up to the window that was partially obstructed by the house, but letting in a little bit of almost painful blue of the evening sky.

Sighing, he sat on the single chair, wincing at the thing being just as uncomfortable as it's austere exterior promised it would.

"And what now?"

This… was now what they had planned. It was supposed to be just a small expedition for Harry to get his things in order, but it snowballed into a mess with the court proceedings and hurried relocation to Italy. Kiritsugu hadn't been happy with leaving most of his weapons back in his hidey-hole, but that had been taken care of swiftly and cleanly. It was just as well - he didn't relish explaining his ex-employers just why he cancelled the contract in question. Kiritsugu winced at the thought of what would that do to his name in certain circles - up until now, he had a faultless killing record, and now, he had failed to get the target in question. And not only that, Harry could be seen as a big liability for anyone who had two working cells of the gray matter in their skulls and a healthy grudge against a Magus Killer. Willingly or not, Kiritsugu had to admit that he had gained many opponents who would love nothing more than to keep him six feet under… permanently, preferably after a long and extremely painful torture session.

He tried to care. Really, he did. His life had been turned on its head in two days - technically, one night and one day – what with him finding out that his intended target was his old friend, and that the said old friend also found his first ever enemy, and was neck deep in some kind of a murder conspiracy, all for the so-called greater good of the stick-wavers who were too damn lazy to take care of the problem themselves.

He tried to convince himself that it would've been better if he had done like he intended to - a clean shot through the skull and then onward to next target. But the so-called conviction was hollow, even disturbing. Like if he had done it, he would be truly irrevocably broken, with no chance of redemption.

It would've been the safer route, but Kiritsugu, even with all the pragmatism being hammered into his skull, had rejected it without a thought once those green eyes looked at his own dark ones.

"We rest and regroup. And I still have to report to my superiors." The priest answered him, still healing their mutual friend, not even caring that he was showing Kiritsugu an unprotected back. Kiritsugu grimaced.

Yeah, what a mess. To explain that yes, witches were real and in the middle of their own war. An extremely happy occasion for the clergy, no doubt, to find out that their enemy was on the verge of butchering each other apart.

Rubbing his face, Kiritsugu exhaled a tired sigh. "You and I know that they won't give up." There was no need to explain just who _'they'_ were. They had successfully fled out of the Britain, but they hadn't been out of the woods yet - probably never would, what with the wizards being like cockroaches - they could be found in the every corner, even if one was completely sure there was no possibility of them being here.

Kiritsugu felt his proverbial hackles rising at the possibility, but right now, he was too exhausted to do anything about anything.

His tailspin of thoughts was interrupted by Harry, who moaned weakly under Kirei's palm, eyes fluttering open.

"Harry?"

He got a sleepy glare in return.

"Stop worryin' and get some rest." Harry ordered, his voice muzzy while his face held traces of irritation. Kiritsugu blinked. And blinked again.

"Uh – " He tried to say something, anything, only for Harry aiming even stronger glare at him. "I c'n hear you thinking. Go. To. Sleep. Now." Oh, Harry was definitely peeved now, and it didn't help the damned priest's shoulders were silently shaking under the weave of mirth at Kiritsugu being caught out.

" You two. Bed. Now." Harry was in no mood to argue as he rolled himself on the side and beckoned his friends closer. _"Sleep."_

Kiritsugu was amused against his will. The bed was made for one person only, and Harry insisted that both Kirei and Kiritsugu share it with him. "Harry. I would love to, but the bed is too small." He tried to persuade his stubborn friend to abandon the idea. Judging by Harry's half-pout, it was not working.

And that was not even thinking about the creaking.

"Bed." Harry was firm.

"Harry. Kiritsugu is right." Ah, Kirei, ever the voice of reason.

And now the priest was on the receiving end of the sleepy glare.

"Dun' care." Harry 's pout evolved into a full one. "Want you."

The Executor and assassin exchanged helpless glances and resigned themselves to a night of being canned in the tiny bed together like sardines and torturous creaking of the said bed's frame.

"You know, this will make a good ghost story for someone." Kirei's monotone voice stopped Kiritsugu short. The assassin covered his face with both hands, feeling his cheeks practically radiating mortification.

"Why don't you make some moans too, it would be a little bit more authentic that way." His muffled retort caused the culprit for this situation to aim the adorable green eyed glare at him and growl out the final order before conking out once more.

"Less bickers, more noises."

Kirei eyed him, amused. Kiritsugu got a feeling Kirei got way too much entertainment out of his plight.

"You heard the man." The priest deadpanned.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the 'verses. 'Nuff said.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I almost can't believe it's April already. Jokes aside, one of you asked me to clarify the ages of our little protagonists, as apparently I haven't included them anywhere. Oops. My bad. So I am amending this little intentional oversight of mine here.

 _ **Harry:**_ _1st meeting_ \- 6 years; _meeting in Surrey:_ 15 years

 _ **Kiritsugu**_ : _1st meeting_ \- 10 years; _meeting in Surrey:_ 18 years

 _ **Kirei:**_ _1st meeting_ \- 9 years; _meeting in Surrey:_ 17 years

 _ **Kuzuki:**_ _1st meeting_ -11 and a half years; _meeting in Surrey:_ 19 and a half years

Harry's little bunch is not so old, but they do have experience, and that causes them to be overlooked as adults when in public. But both Kirei and Kiritsugu are still a little bit childish at heart, especially now when they found their Sky - they feel both safe and accepted enough to be themselves like they used to be when they were little. Their natures also clash so they can't help but be a wee bit petty when confronting each other. (Like pettiness overload...)

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU** _ on multiple scales, kitten cameo, gratuitous use of Italian, and Kiritsugu's harebrained little theory.

* * *

 _I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times  
Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes  
Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief  
I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief_

 _('A Thousand Years', by Sting)_

* * *

True to the fashion, the night passed amidst the moans, creaking and shuffling.

Thus prompting the firm morning resolution on two sides (third one was practically dead to the world still).

 _Never again._

So the two martyrs in question, both bleary-eyed and their hair in disarray, with their clothes completely ruffled made a camp in the tiny room, courtesy of Kirei retrieving the necessary goods for truly waking in the morning - coffee and croissants, freshly baked just this morning, along with tea for the culprit who was still innocently snoozing in the aforementioned bed, unaware of the horrors he had managed to put his self-acclaimed guardians through.

The breakfast items in the question had been put on the table, the coffee in two extra-large take-away cups and the tea in the middle-sized one, while the croissants rested on the torn apart paper bag, their scent vying across the room enticingly.

Kiritsugu glared at the small form on the bed once again before viciously biting into his own croissant, tearing away a good chunk and chewing it agitatedly. It wasn't the healthiest breakfast, but right now, he couldn't give a flying fuck about health concerns. He so wanted to smoke a cigarette, but that damned priest forbade it, not to mention the smoke would irritate Harry's lungs. Closing his eyes, he exhaled through his nose.

Kirei, on the other hand, quietly sipped the bitterly strong liquid out of the smaller paper cup, his brown eyes distant as he thought of what they needed to do to be safe. He had already reported to the higher-ups about the mission, omitting some details and hinting that there was more to it, so that he was allowed to pursue the matter more in-depth than before.

It had been the truth, but not the whole truth. Just enough of the truth to be believable and accepted at a face value. And hadn't that been a change. Kirei, who was told to be truthful in all things, forsaking the order to protect his friend.

The young Executor looked at the form curled under the thin blankets on the bed. It was kind of unbelievable that he had found his first friend again, saved him twice, and then, been saved once again in turn.

When Harry had turned against his own people after hearing the verdict that Kirei would be condemned to be, in essence, a research subject for the Department of Mysteries, Kirei though his heart would stop and burst with sudden warmth, like supernova. If the first time had been good, then this one, Kirei knew for sure that come what may, he would follow one Harry James Potter to the end of the world and into depths of hell itself, no matter what. Harry had denied the heritage his parents left him, repudiated it so strongly that it may as well had been an oath, that he wouldn't return back to this senseless world. Moreover, he had claimed Kirei as his own.

Kirei had never been claimed as to belonging to someone. He didn't see the sense in it. He had been named and adopted, sure, and he had been given a purpose in the hierarchy of Church, be that by order of things or later on his own inclination, when he had chosen the path of Executor, but never, ever, did anyone spoke out loud to lay a claim on his person. Sure, his opponents had tried to, in order to shatter his sense of self, but they failed.

Harry, though….

Harry succeeded.

Because he had claimed one Kotomine Kirei as a friend a long time ago. And even through this bond had been forcibly buried under the forgotten memories, they had reclaimed it, and Harry affirmed it, in front of everyone, that Kirei - Kirei who was an Executor, a person who enjoyed the pain of his fellow people and a natural enemy to the witches, wizards and supernatural beings everywhere, was still his friend.

It made something in Kirei's mind stand up and take notice and then curl in contentment, finally tethered - willingly so - to the one who made such a bold claim. In this single moment, Kirei's loyalties weren't to the Church, or to his mentor or adoptive father, but shifted solely to the irate green eyed young man who once again became the sole focus of his universe.

Kirei didn't know what the future may bring - but the one fact was clear. Wherever Harry would chose to go, Kirei would follow.

* * *

Harry woke slowly, in small increments. His throat still felt swollen, despite taking the healing draught some time ago. He smelled the scent of the sheets, a mix of Kirei and Kiritsugu, which caused him to snuggle deeper into the long unused covers. His nose wrinkled delicately at the scent gently prodding at his olfactory senses, tickling them with the promise of food and drink, causing him to reluctantly open his eyes.

The sight around him was blurry. Harry made a disgruntled noise as he reluctantly snuck an arm out of the covers, feeling for the glasses. A small chuckle answered his need, and moments later, the glasses were put onto his nose, once again shifting the world around him into the focus. Blinking blearily, his brain sluggishly went through the happenings before he fell asleep.

 _'Gringotts. Trial. Quitting the wizarding world… Italy… eh!?'_

Harry made a half-squeak and half shriek, not believing that he had done.

 _'Oh gods. What have I done!?'_ he made to burrow deeper into the covers, only for someone-'s finger to poke into the bundle he had wrapped himself in, right on top of his head.

"Finally awake?" A semi-familiar male voice asked him drolly, and Harry scowled.

Kiritsugu was a mean, mean person.

"'M not sure if I want to be." He retorted, only for the poke to repeat itself, this time on his shoulder.

"Too late. Get out and I may allow you a bite or two out of chocolate and hazelnut -filled croissants." Unwillingly, Harry perked up at the offer. "Freshly baked."

 _Sold._

Reluctantly, Harry unwound himself out of the blanked, and someone's hand offered him his glasses. Putting them on his noise, he murmured his thanks, blinking up at the assassin, and then scowl again, making Kiritsugu raise a dry eyebrow at his petulant behavior. Involuntarily, Harry blushed, but still shot Kiritsugu a small peeved glare.

"As Kiritsugu said, we have croissants, along with tea and coffee." Kirei murmured out, turning Harry's attention to his own person. Immediately, Harry felt guilty at seeing Kirei's rumpled appearance. The priest obviously hadn't slept well, and on the other glance, neither did Kiritsugu, which compounded Harry's guilt even more.

"Um. Are you okay?" He ventured tentatively, his voice almost tiny as he sat up, crossing his legs into a semi-pretzel in a process. Emotionless dark brown eyes blinked at him. " Yes. Did you sleep well?" The priest returned the question with his own, while making a small sip of the coffee out of his cup.

"I did. Thanks." Harry felt way too awkward. "But today we will find lodging with a decent bed. I can't have you two run around looking like two zombies!" He admonished his two friends, glaring at them. "I could've slept on the floor!"

"If you'd done that, then none of us three would get a good sleep. I was willing to forego my own share, because under no circumstances will you be sleeping on the cold hard floor and getting your fever up to cold or even pneumonia." Kirei's voice was dull, but fierce all the same. And Kiritsugu shared the sentiments, if the glare he was aiming at Harry, was anything to go by.

Harry raised his hands placating. "Okay! Okay, no sleeping for me on the floor, got it! But I stand by what I've said - we'll have to find better lodgings." He blinked as something else occurred to him. "By the way, where are we exactly? And what is the time?"

Kiritsugu snatched a croissant off the table and flopped on the bed, causing it to emit a sharp creak of protest at his careless movement. "We are in Florence, Italy. The old part of the town. If you want to ask anything more, ask Kirei. It's his hidey-hole, after all." He offered the croissant to Harry, who took it with a distracted murmur of thanks before biting into the fluffy baked good.

"It's as Kiritsugu said." Kirei affirmed. "We came here because I could pull up bounded fields I've raised here." The foreign word caused Harry to squint with confusion. "Bounded fields? Like your own wards?" He eyed Kirei with concern, remembering his own experience with Blood Wards back at ho - no, back in England. Privet Drive was never his home, after all. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. They are different from blood wards." Kirei replied, apparently knowing what concerned the green-eyed wizard the most. "Anyway. Right now, this room is the safest. If what Fudge had said back here is right, they couldn't contact you on time, which means they didn't have any means to cross the bounded fields. Of course, that still doesn't solve the problem of them finding you if you step outside the field." Harry's mood darkened. "So you can't raise them elsewhere?" He queried. Kirei shook his head. "I could've done that, but the process is time-consuming, especially because I am not familiar with this piece of thaumaturgy to the satisfactory extent." He seemed disgruntled at the revelation. "Aside that, we are in the old town, which is a maze on its own, so anyone who they send after you would be hindered, even with magic helping them."

Humming, Harry nodded as he absentmindedly took another bite of the admittedly sinfully good croissant. Not as good as treacle tart, but close. "Right. So we raise camp in here and acquire sleeping bags." He muttered, his eyes gliding to the cup of tea, unconsciously prompting Kirei to turn around and pour him the sweetly scented liquid into a smaller paper cup before handing it to him, causing Harry to blink with surprise.

"Harry. Were you serious when you said you won't be returning back?" Kiritsugu interrupted Harry in the mid-sip of the beverage, causing him to blink.

"I was. And I am." Harry bit his lip, eyebrows furrowing in discontent. "But Dumbledore mentioned your friends. What about them?" Kiritsugu persisted, leaning forward, his black eyes intent, and Harry imagined they almost tried to drill into Harry's mind, with how insistent was Kiritsugu's gaze on his person. His lips twisted into a thoughtful moue as he pondered the question.

He had disclaimed his place in the wizarding England in a hurry, furious that they were such bigots as to even suggest Kirei be sent to Department of Mysteries as a research subject, just because the priest had managed to kill the supposedly indestructible creatures. But in doing so, he had left behind both Hermione and Ron, not to mention the Weasleys and the last friends of his parents.

He felt a twinge of guilt about Sirius, because the man really didn't deserve Harry to just up and depart into another country. But the guilt was assuaged by hot, insidious bitterness aimed at his friends for leaving him out of the loop and roaring sense of betrayal.

Truthfully speaking, he didn't have people who would really stand by his side. Sure, Hermione had helped him with Basilisk and the Triwizard Tournament, but to find out that she could've written a letter and sent it by Muggle post, or heavens forbid, made a phone call when he had been left with Dursleys all this time, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Dumbledore's insinuation about the two being happy about seeing Harry again was also one of the last straws to break his already damaged faith in the old wizard. The more he had thought about it, after he had talked about his wild years at Hogwarts with both Kirei and Kiritsugu, the more things didn't pan out.

First year, the defenses for the Stone were next to nothing. The only one which could really make trouble was Snape's riddle. Second year, nobody had interfered when Harry had been accused of being a Heir of Slytherin, purely because he had accidentally spoke to a snake in that thrice damned defense club. Third year, Harry was still undecided on, but bitter nonetheless that he had to confront the Dementors in his insane rescue mission of his godfather. Looking back, everything was - as Kiritsugu had pointed out, suspicious - Dumbledore had so many titles, so much power, and it was outside of his capabilities to arrange even the simplest hearing of the man with Veritaserum? Hard to believe. Fourth year, when everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, was a mixed bag of good and bad experiences - Hermione had stuck with him, Ron had betrayed him, only to come back after seeing Harry go toe to toe with Hungarian Horntail with his proverbial tail between his legs. It didn't help that Harry had gone through the resurrection of the Voldemort and returned with Cedric's corpse. Instead of heeding his warning, the people, and Fudge especially, decided to ignore it, and in their ignorance, Harry wasn't taken care of as a survivor of a traumatic happening ought to be. Harry was used to it - it was a part of the course, but usually, his little adventures ended without heavy casualties on his side. But not this time. This time, there was death, scorn and betrayal. This time, there were accusing eyes looking at him, why he hadn't managed to save Cedric. This time, he was found wanting. The dark, hollow feeling in his chest, ever present even when he had found his supposedly first friends in the shape of Hermione and Ron grew even more vast and dark, tugging him into nightmares and depression, compromising his health even further.

And then, Kirei. Later on Kiritsugu, even if he had wanted to kill Harry at first. The warmth came back, and with it the memories of another betrayal. The emptiness residing within his chest was smaller now - Harry still found something missing, but not so much than before.

"Harry?" He blinked at Kirei's question. "Are you alright?" He looked into those dark eyes. Kirei had flat out told him he had killed, but surprisingly enough, Harry didn't feel revulsion about it. Kirei had always been frank with him, and Harry was now grateful for it. Involuntarily, he felt the edges of his mouth twitch up into a small smile.

"I am okay. As to answer to your question – there isn't anything for me to come back to." He replied, allowing the words shape his conviction, taking another sip of the fragrant liquid. "I don't know why they are so fixated on me to fix their mess. I am only one person, not even the strongest or specially gifted. The people who ought to take care of me didn't. They even took you from me for whatever stupid reason they thought up at a time. What's to say that if I return, they won't try to do it again?"

Kiritsugu scoffed. _As if_. "But what will you do now? We don't have ordinary jobs."

That stopped Harry cold. What exactly did he _want_ to do?

"Uhh…." He trailed out, honestly confused. "I haven't finished my education, so maybe going back to school." He sent a longing glance to another croissant on the desk, making a small hum of happiness when Kirei passed it to him.

"School?" Kiritsugu's voice was flatter than a board. "You got out of the insanity and instead of taking some time for yourself, you want to go back to _school?"_

Harry sent him a glare. "In case you haven't noticed, it would look very strange for me to not be in school. Fourteen going on fifteen, hello?" He waved his croissant through the air, only to make a yelp when Kirei got a bite out of it. "Kirei!" He glared at the priest who unrepentantly munched on the part he had stolen. Kirei swallowed the bite before he spoke, heedless of Harry's glare at his person.

"You do realize you will have to make up for four years?" Harry winced at the reminder. This was not a prospect he looked forward to. "And suppose they are still after you – not only Dumbledore and his sycophants, but also that Dark Lord of yours with his underlings." That made Harry's burst of confidence deflate again, prompting the wizard to slump in defeat. Kirei was right. The wizarding world wouldn't give him peace just because he declared he wanted it.

"I will think up of something. Last resort, I can hire a tutor and then take the exams." He grumbled, taking an especially vengeful bite out of the poor croissant in his hand. Kirei paused, thinking.

"This is actually not a bad idea." He finally spoke out. "But you can't rely only on your luck. In case they find you, you will have to know how to defend yourself." Kiritsugu blinked at the priest's logical reasoning.

"I can teach him about firearms. The wizards don't have any defense strong enough or even fast enough to put up against guns, this was also the main fact why was I hired to kill you." He addressed Harry, who made a face at the killing part, but nodded anyway. "It would be better if we moved to some other country; Italy is still a little too close to England for my tastes."

"And what about you two? You can't be beside me all the time." Harry looked at both Kirei and Kiritsugu, concerned. "Kirei, you still have obligations to the Church. Kiritsugu, you are still a freelance assassin, and it would be strange if you suddenly dropped off the Earth just like that." Kiritsugu winced.

That was a problem. As Harry pointed out, they could afford to shirk their obligations, but at the same time, they didn't want to leave Harry.

"I will tell superiors that I need more time." Kirei replied. "Bad case comes to worst, I may have to take up the mantle of a freelance Executor." Harry frowned, confused. "What is the difference between them?" he asked, curious. Kirei gave him a slight nod. "They aren't bound to the Church's hierarchy as tightly, but in exchange, they have fewer privileges than if they worked under the Church's orders. They are rare because it's hard to get the supplies out of the established sources, but it isn't impossible."

"And why don't you do it now?" Kiritsugu frowned at the priest, annoyed. "Right now, Harry takes a greater priority – "

"Because there are the sources of information I can only access to if I am still officially under the Church's orders." Kirei stopped him flat. "Vatican archives contain part of Alexandria Library, and I think I could find something about how to remove that shard of darkness form Harry." He snapped back, irritated. "Whatever is it, I have a bad enough feeling that I want to do away with it as soon as possible and in the meantime find out what those colors we have mean."

"Sorry." Kiritsugu mumbled, cowed. "But… Alexandria Library?" He raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't it rumored that the entire Library had been destroyed in the fire?" Kirei nodded. "Yes. But how else to hide something better than say it's been irrevocably destroyed?" That reasoning got a nod of respect from the young assassin.

"That kind of thinking I can get behind. But why it isn't a general knowledge, then?" Harry asked, his eyes wide with wonder. Hermione would've given her left arm and leg, along with her firstborn child if she could've gotten her hands on those manuscripts.

"The knowledge contained within would be harmful if it found their way in the wrong hands." Kirei sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had been in the Alexandria Library only once, and the things he had managed to glimpse would give any unscrupulous Magus some very interesting ideas… though not necessarily good for humankind as a whole. Rituals on summoning the eldritch horrors, the sacrificial ones to boost one's power or to ensnare them to someone's will… the list went on. Thankfully the documents were heavily protected, both with bounded fields, modern technology and the guards, both human and non-human ones. Not many people had the knowledge that the part of the infamous Library had survived, and the caretakers who did were put under heavy geas, along with all of the users of the Library. Kirei had been one of those, but as he spoke with the intention of not using the knowledge gathered herein for his own good, the geas left him alone, though they did gave him a warning pinch, just in case.

"So we would have to go to Vatican in the near future." Kiritsugu spoke, his eyes calculating.

"Apparently." Harry snarked dryly. "But do you really think you will find something there, Kirei?" He turned back to the priest, green eyes looking into the empty brown ones hopefully. Kirei paused, frowning.

"I should." He said slowly. "If not, then we will have at least some ideas on where to begin our search then."

"Well, that's the best we can hope for." Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. He made the last sip of the now cooled tea from the cup before eyeing Kiritsugu. "And you?"

Kiritsugu blinked at the prompt. It was a good question. After the last mission turned failure, he had to continue. But how? He knew that he wanted to be with Harry, but he had been a little too infamous in certain circles to just up and leave, no matter how much he wished to do so. It would also be inadvisable for the Magus Killer to be spotted in one place only and not just that, to have an exploitable and currently very vulnerable weakness. Not that Harry was weak in any sense of word, but Kiritsugu didn't want to take a risk.

Sighing, he frowned and crossed his arms on his chest, thinking. "Right now, I am more or less free. The order for your assassination came from the magical side, so Magi and everyone else don't know about that part, which is good. But I am known to hunt the more unscrupulous elements, and there are still some requests I definitely want to uptake." He gave Harry a sharp look. "But not until I can be completely sure that you would be safe."

Harry glared back. "Why can't you trust me that I can take care of myself?" He growled, completely frustrated with Kiritsugu's stubbornness on the issue.

"Because you are a trouble magnet on two legs, that's why!" Kiritsugu snapped back. "And I am _not_ losing you again and possibly permanently just because you wanted to be alone out of some misguided belief that you can a) take care of yourself and b) you don't need any help doing it!"

Harry opened his mouth, ready willing and able to prove him wrong but when thinking about it, Kiritsugu was right. So he reluctantly snapped his mouth shut, jaw clenching with the effort not to say something that would even exacerbate the problem.

"Then my tutor would just have to be very competent in taking care of the trouble I will find myself in!" He bit back, glaring at Kiritsugu and barely holding himself to not clock the overprotective jerk, only to be halted by Kirei's hand on his shoulder.

"I think you might be onto something." The priest muttered while nodding to himself.

"What? You mean a tutor?" Harry snarled, still irate at the possible loss of his barely gained freedom.

"Yes."

Both Harry and Kiritsugu stared at Kirei.

"Kirei. Explain something to me." Harry's voice became dangerously soft, placing the priest on the edge and thrilling him at the same time. "In what world would you think it's a good idea to saddle some poor sod with me and giving him a premature heart attack?"

* * *

An unremarkable young man with simple square glasses on his nose was carrying a faded out black duffle bag, his back straight and chin high. He was clad in grey jeans trousers paired with grey and white sneakers. His chest was covered with a dark turquoise polo shirt. At a first glance, he was just one more traveler to visit Italy. However, when he stepped out of the Florence airport he unexpectedly sneezed and a cold shiver of foreboding ran up his spine.

* * *

And so, Operation: Defense Tutor was a go. It was more or less a side project, as apparently both Kirei and Kiritsugu were offended by Harry's meager amount of clothes and thus dragged him out to rectify this mistake.

Harry was not exactly happy, but even he agreed that he stood up like a sore thumb in his borrowed clothes. Besides, it was interesting to see how people in other countries lived. His first impression was that Italians were more relaxed than their English counterparts and also more passionate - he lost the count of girls who tried to flirt with Kirei on the way, and even Kiritsugu wasn't exempt from some hot come-hither glances. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be a target for guys because he was just so tiny and fragile and the baggy clothes on his frame didn't exactly help to correct the first impression that he was a guy and not a girl, thank you very much!

The Italian magical side was more modern than English one, but still stuck in a Renaissance, at least buildings-wise. A cheerful barista confided in Harry that it was because Italy was honoring the achievements from this time, but everything else was a mix and match of modern and antique. The shops were wide and brightly lit, not a speck of dust in them, and people here were clad like normal people, ready and able to blend into the muggle side within moments notice.

Harry also got a taste of espresso and immediately fell in love with it. The bittersweet taste of the freshly ground beans along with rich aroma of the espresso being brewed just so, the tastes of the hot liquid slowly intermixing with the coldness of milk…. Yes. Now if he could only get a treacle tart or two to enjoy along with the shot, he would've been a happy camper. But he didn't mourn for the loss long, what with him discovering tiramisu. No, nothing like English versions, but the true blue Italian one - just bitter and sweet and creamy enough to consider tiramisu his new favorite. And if the day was too hot, he could always cool down with _gelato_ and explore the multitude of the tastes on the offer.

Just because of that, he could almost forget the true purpose of exactly why had he come in Italia. For a moment, he tasted the life of a tourist, a carefree pretender who gawked at the beautiful works of the greatest artists of renaissance and enjoyed flavorful cuisine of the sun-warmed country with its open, passionate people, only to be mercilessly reminded of the ugly side of his life the next.

And it has begun so very innocently too.

With a girl and a lost kitten, to be exact.

Harry was enjoying his _gelato_ at the Fountain of Neptune, waiting for Kirei to return from wherever he had to go to, when his attention was drawn to a distressed cry of a child.

 _"Gattina! Mia gattina!"_ A desperate voice cried out, causing Harry to blink as his eyes searched out the origin of the voice.

It turned out to be a small girl, five or six years old, clad in simple pale blue knee length dress and crying like no tomorrow.

 _"Gattina! Gattina, dove sei?"_ The cry ended in a sob and the girl crouched on the ground, furiously wiping her eyes, her mess of black curls reaching her shoulders messy in her distress.

Nobody approached her, the tourists passing her as if she weren't here, and Harry felt anger on her behalf. There she was, a poor little girl, who apparently lost something and nobody wanted to help her!

Viciously biting the last piece of the cone down, he hopped off the bench he was sitting on. He hesitated a little - he didn't know much of the Italian and Kirei explicitly told him to Stay Put - with all the capitals included. But surely, helping a poor little girl wouldn't take too long?

His intention firmed, he approached the girl and crouched to her level. "Um _. Buona sera, piccola. Cos'è successo?"_

This made the little girl look up and the next thing Harry was treated to was a waterfall of Italian, the only things he picked from was ' _gattina',_ ' _aiuto'_ and _'por favor'._ The girl's large dark eyes were shiny in the evening light as she stood up; tugging him along as she hurriedly wiped her eyes.

Harry let her drag along, even going so far to call ' _gattina'_ every few moments or so, making the little girl smile tremulously.

His first sign that something was wrong was that the girl was walking away from the brightly lit places and into darker, narrower alleys. Harry got a sense of unease - but that was just a little girl, wasn't she? Some ways ahead there was a wall, boxing both of them in, with some dumpsters strewn here and there, emitting their unpleasant scent of rotten vegetables, plastics and dirty rags.

Harry couldn't help but hesitate a little. "Where are you leading us, little one? Whatever you are searching for couldn't be here." He addressed his little leader. The girl stopped and blinked with confusion before she pouted.

 _"Mia gattina…Mia povera gattina..."_ She bit her lip, and Harry's hackles rose. He hurriedly released the girl's hand, causing her to run away, while he barely dodged a steel pipe aimed at his head.

 _"Maledizione!_ Stay _still,_ you brat!" A hoarse voice cussed at him, prompting Harry to turn around and look up at the bald-headed, fat-lipped youth with three piercings in his left ear.

"The hell I will!" Harry spat out, glaring. He reached for his want, only to remember he didn't have it on his person anymore, causing his blood to chill and him to curse under his breath as he eyed his opponent. His attacker was lanky, and wielding the pipe with apparent familiarity.

"So, no _gattina_ , then?" He had to ask, prompting the youth to smirk as he eyed his surroundings for any weapon to arm himself with.

"You idiot tourists are all the same." The Fat Lip sneered condescendingly. "A cute little girl, some waterworks and you are led like lambs to slaughter." He swung the pipe again, prompting Harry to dodge once more.

"I don't have much money with me if that's what you want." Harry huffed out as his back slapped against the wall. He felt out with his right hand, grimacing a little when he felt something truly smelly and disgusting smear over his fingers. His senses were hyper aware and he watched the man for the slightest movement.

"But the _capo_ who ordered a hit on you does." The Fat Lip leered. "And you aren't that bad looking, either."

Harry swallowed bile at the man's shameless perusal of his body. Now, more than ever, he regretted that he had been persuaded into wearing such skin tight clothing. If he got out of this alive, he would box Kiritsugu's ears in _so hard_ –

His incensed thoughts were stopped when the man swung the pipe once again, forcing him to dodge away from the trash bins and Harry mentally cursed. He didn't have any defense now and –

The man's eyes bulged out as he made a choked moan of pain before he crumpled on the ground, the pipe clattering on the stone covered ground harmlessly, prompting Harry to look up at his savior.

It was a tall young man – not as tall as than Kirei, but tall nonetheless - with square frames on his nose, and clad in black trousers with faded out gray shirt clinging to his torso. The man's features were a little bit Asian looking and once again, Harry got a sense he had seen this man somewhere.

But that wasn't true, was it? Surely he would've remembered such a person –

"Are you alright?" The man's English was cool and crisp, but a little bit wrong sounding, like he wasn't a native speaker of the language. Harry had grabbed the offered hand and his spine stiffened as he once again, saw the colors, even if just in a flash.

Green. And blue.

He choked out an incredulous huff of laugh. "I'm not. But I think I will be."

* * *

For some reason, his eyes had been glued to the messy-haired, green-eyed teen who was wearing those hideous glasses. He didn't know why, but something within him was telling him to follow the boy. He really shouldn't, because his funds were running out and finding a job, even if a temporary one was a paramount in his itinerary. But for some reason he hesitated to do so. He was in Italy, far away enough from them to not be found if he had been chased after the mess he had left in the headquarters after his last mission. He should aim to build up an unremarkable, safe life to atone for the evils he had caused in his service to the organization. And this - this stalking business - was bad for his plans.

But something within him, when he saw the bespectacled boy, stopped and didn't let him walk away.

The boy was unremarkable. A little bit too pale and undernourished – and unusually twitchy at the moments, too, sharp gray eyes detected, but otherwise remarkably unremarkable.

He watched the boy enjoy his ice cream, wander about through the old streets and looking around. Despite being a foreigner, he didn't have any companions along, not even an adult supervisor. With him being so very frail-looking and a foreigner to boot, raised yet another red flag in his mind.

His gut feeling was right. The boy followed the little girl who was crying about her cat - but her tears were fake (he saw enough of tears to note which were fake ones and which not, and the little girl was the best faker of them all) - through the increasingly narrow and grungy alleys, until she slipped away, leaving the boy alone with his would-be attacker.

He followed them like a shadow, staying unnoticed until that bastard said that tidbit about the boy being not too bad looking.

Usually, he was calm and cold, trained to be a weapon indifferent to human suffering. But this - his body moved on his own, and he felt the attacker's ribs break under the strength of his hits, the pain sharp and sudden enough to crumble him onto the floor.

He didn't care that he killed again.

( _broken ribs punctured upper abdominal cavity, and if the help didn't come soon, the man would die of the internal bleeding soon enough_ ).

Green eyes looked into his own gray ones, prompting him to have this strange itch of _I-should've-known-him_ sense of feeling as he asked the boy if he was alright, offering him the hand with which he dealt the killing blow.

His gut clenched as the boy's eyes widened when he noticed him, and then, he heard the sweetest sound ever.

"I'm not. But I think I will be."

And something within his cold, bereft heart, for the first time in forever, agreed wholeheartedly, as he gave back his own smile, however small it was.

* * *

Harry didn't know how his 'let me treat to a coffee as a thanks for rescuing me' evolved into silent, three-way staring match between his two friends and his rescuer.

But it did, and now the four of them were holed in Kirei's tiny room with its uncomfortably small bed and minimum of furniture, with Kiritsugu having his gun out, half-cocked at the dark-clad man and Kirei sitting beside him on the bed, his hand a firm, heavy but warm shackle on his shoulder, prompting him to stay put.

"Who are you?" Kiritsugu's eyes were cold and void of emotions as he stared at Harry's newest stray. Because the man was obviously Harry-picked stray, even if Harry denied it many times over. He knew the signs - it was the same like with the damn priest, and Kiritsugu didn't like it.

"My name is Kuzuki Soichiro." The seemingly plain man replied, his voice frank as his eyes switched between Kirei and Kiritsugu, undoubtedly assessing them and calculating the actions if things went south. "Like Harry said, I happened to pass through when he was attacked."

"What is in for you?" The priest followed Kiritsugu's lead, and both of them stubbornly ignored Harry's scandalized splutter.

"You - you just can't!" Harry snapped, glaring at his two friends. "He did nothing wrong! He just happened to be there!"

"Exactly. He just _happened_ to be there." Kiritsugu eyed him unimpressed, before his gaze flicked back to the gray eyed man sitting in front of him. "Isn't that suspicious enough?"

 _"Kerry!"_ Harry's exasperated whine was adorable. Or not, when he used that name for Kiritsugu. The Magus Killer felt his eyebrow twitch with annoyance.

"Harry." Kirei's voice was firm, but the priest didn't move his gaze away from the man in front of him. Harry's shoulders slumped. "You two are a bit too paranoid, you know." The young wizard grumbled out, peeved, as he huffed, crossing his arms on his chest sulkily.

"With a good reason. I don't know who he works for, but he isn't an ordinary person." Kirei noted, watching with interest when the man's usually implacable face frowned for a tiniest of a moments before it smoothed out, as if nothing had perturbed him.

"I don't have an employer anymore." Dark gray eyes were looking at Harry stoically, making both of Harry's self-proclaimed guardians inwardly bristle at the man's audacity, more so when Harry smiled at the man and the emotionless gray eyes unintentionally softened a bit.

"Would it help if I say that I saw the colors?" Harry interjected, blushing as Kiritsugu eyed him disbelievingly, while Kirei sent him that _'I-knew-that-would-happen'_ gaze of his. Not quite resigned but not exactly exasperated either. Harry felt himself bristle defensively in return, but he couldn't help that his life was so weird!

"The colors? _Him?"_ Kiritsugu, on the other side, didn't have any compunction expressing his doubts about the occurrence. "Hey, you. Just out of curiosity. What was your former occupation?" He addressed the gray-eyed man in front of him, his stance a little bit more relaxed, but still prepared to shoot at the smallest hostility.

"And why should I tell you?" The man fired back, his shoulders tense and flint gray eyes narrowing a smidgen for the first time. "How do I know that this isn't some elaborate attempt to catch and use me to your own ends?" He saw hurt green eyes looking at him, and it took all of his willpower not to cringe with remorse at the snapped out words.

He opened his mouth and closed them again. For some reason, the name of his occupation was like a lead in his gut, heavier than ever before. But –

"Assassin." The mumble was barely heard, but there. He swallowed, regretting those three syllables more than anyone could ever know. Because surely now, those green eyes will be horror-struck, and that tired, youthful, trusting face would twist into a grimace of fear and revulsion. "I am - _was_ \- an assassin."

"Harry…" Kiritsugu's tone was now the picture of long-suffering defeat, causing Harry to blush in embarrassment. "Tell me something. Why are you so inclined to gather to you _assassins_ of all people?"

"I am not!" Harry defended, still feeling his cheeks blazing with mortification. "Are you saying I knew what you three would become when I was – what, six years old - and chose you because of that?"

"If it's you…" The priest's quip was muffled, courtesy of Harry lunging forward and slapping a hand over his mouth, green eyes behind awkward frames wide and panicked. "No, don't! You know it isn't true anyway!" He then made a face and jerked hand off the priest's lips, freeing them. " _Ew,_ Kirei. You _licked_ me!"

"As I said, it's possible." Kirei continued unrepentantly. Harry just groaned and punched him into his shoulder. "You're mean."

"And you love me for it." Kirei's answer back was fast, causing Harry to glare at the priest with helpless, but fond exasperation before he turned back to the grey-eyed man, a sheepish smile on his lips. "Um. Excuse me and disregard him, he knows not what he is speaking about." He sent Kirei one more glare before his attention was back on the newly discovered assassin. "Kuzuki, right? Can I call you that?"

The assassin nodded, frowning. "But you said you knew me. I don't recall anything like that." The now named Kuzuki pointed out.

Grimacing, Harry shook his head, while Kirei and Kiritsugu's faces darkened with the distaste at the memories. "I'm not lying to you. It's just… someone wiped all of our memories - mine, Kirei's, Kerry's and yours. Up until now, haven't you felt empty, unfulfilled, like something was missing from your life?"

Viridian colored eyes stared into gray ones, and that feeling of itchiness, of wrongness increased. Unconsciously, Kuzuki stepped forward, hand reaching out and causing Harry's two guards to tense, but he didn't mind them. His attention was solely on those green eyes and the hand reaching out for his - small, skinny, calloused but oh so very familiar –

And then, the memories began flashing in his mind. Fractured, making no sense at first, but the assassin forced himself to relax and focus and _pay attention_ , causing the shards to fold into the pictures that painted a picture he had, once upon the time, known, and yet forgotten-

\- the darkness, bone-white animal masks around him and the ancient face looking at his own, as he was kneeling on the cold stone floor, hair mussed, blood sluicing on his face from the wound on the top of his head, muscles throbbing when both his wrists and ankles were bound together, bound so very tightly, and there, in his heart, there was so much darkness and hate and anger –

 _"I am sorry." The old man said, but his voice held no remorse, and Kuzuki knew platitude when he heard one. This was no remorse, no pity._

 _His lips moving, a taste of blood and something else prevalent on his tongue, something bitter (defeat?), as he spoke, still maintaining that façade of calm and indifference they had been taught, despite of the burning fury in his heart._

 _"You are not. And I will kill you for it."_

-Waking up the next day, dizzy, disoriented and still being put through his paces, but feeling so, so very _hollow_ , his heart clenching every time when he saw green eyes, but why –

-Teary green eyes ( _wrong shade,_ ) of his next target, a child really, and him staying his hand because this was _wrong_ –

-returning back to the headquarters and raining retribution to the ones who had sent him to kill the innocents and then –

-memories. Memories, that were his, yet they weren't, yet he remembered them, those golden days, spent in secret with three younger boys, one clad in ridiculously big yellow and red clothes, with ugly glasses on his face and green, so very green eyes, the priest's son, golden cross glinting on his small chest and rambunctious brat that was a hero of justice wannabe, always boisterous, always in some kind of a scuffle with the priest boy even if they teamed up against him on occasion, but all three living for the sparkle in those green eyes, and the occasional, small raspy chuckles.

Gray eyes cleared of the haze and he spoke only one world, but filled up with so much meaning.

 _"You."_

* * *

Kirei and Kiritsugu weren't exactly happy that Kuzuki was to join their little group, and Harry was amused to be reminded of two sulky little boys, just like in those old days, when the then taller than them, lanky assassin joined their fun. The two of them had been distrustful of the older boy for three days, even going so far as to collaborate in not allowing Kuzuki in touching distance of Harry's, but after some time, they relaxed and the four of them had fun exploring the forest and playing around like only boys could.

Now, the situation was a little bit more tense and awkward, what with four of them occupying a tiny room and Harry's friends being true blue assassins. Well, Kirei claimed to be an Executor, but Kiritsugu shot him down that it was just a fancy-ass name for being an assassin, so there was that. Kirei wasn't really happy camper that Kiritsugu of all people got a verbal upper hand on him, and Kiritsugu was unbearably smug, but the situation was still the same.

Kuzuki also agreed to be Harry's tutor, much to Harry's dismay and Kirei's amusement, but it had been a sheer dumb coincidence that Kuzuki intended to apply for the post of Harry's tutor even before all that mess with the cat and would-be attacker happened. And considering Kuzuki's credentials - he was the best assassin of one of the most feared assassin guilds in the world and, much to Kiritsugu's disbelief, a certified tutor.

Harry, they found out, had the darndest luck.

* * *

Kuzuki Soichiro would never have thought that his life after the mess he had left behind in his homeland could turn around so completely. His travel in Italy was a whimsical choice, something to do because he wanted to do it, not because he was told to, before he allowed himself to drift into the life of normal, boring teacher somewhere in some unremarkable school in order to atone for unjustly taking all the lives he had.

But life - and a certain green-eyed person – had different plans.

And Kuzuki Soichiro found himself in the middle of the mess… again.

Magic. Strange lights, unlike what he had ever seen. Kirei having become a priest wasn't such a surprise, the little boy always had the hallmarks of following his father's steps, but Kiritsugu of all people being an assassin was a shock. Kuzuki remembered Kirei's habit of morning prayers, which Harry had quietly joined in, before Kerry stormed in like a tiny, boy-sized, tooth-grinning hurricane, dragging the two of them out into new adventures, much to Kirei's long—suffering exasperation and Harry's amused excitement, while Soichiro joined them after sneaking out the stronghold.

His life had been turned around on its head – to find out that he had been betrayed - _they_ had been betrayed, even as children, with no rhyme or reason, torn apart, losing Harry and Harry losing them, all of them losing their memories of the time that was best and brightest part of their lives….was inexcusable. And when Soichiro found out just who was the one who had done such an abominable deed, the assassin swore that he would put his extensive knowledge of torture techniques and healing practices into a very good use whether or not this unknown enemy used magic or not, not caring whether Kirei or Kiritsugu called dibs on their enemy first.

Closing his eyes, he fell into meditation, his inner mind focused onto the ball of tranquil, glowing blue intermixed with similarly glowing jade green, both unnerved and excited for the next day to come.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own them. I do own the story.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ First of all, thank you for making my day with your reviews and reactions about the chapters. And finally getting to the sweet portion of things. Because Harry can't help himself but adopt, even unintentionally, another one. I will, of course, leave you to guess just who was the lucky person (I don't doubt many of you will guess right), and of course, there's gratuitous helping of Italian. Because when in Italy, do as the Italians do, yeah?

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU** _ on multiple scales, language of love, and Harry in trouble.

* * *

 _I still love you  
I still want you  
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves  
Like galaxies in my head_

 _('A Thousand Years'_ by _Sting)_

* * *

There were always consequences. In _Cosa Nostra_ this fact was magnified by thousand fold, and even more so, if the order or operation failed.

A well-clothed man coldly stared at the shivering and sobbing wreck of a human being in front of him. The _Freccia_ famiglia wasn't exactly known among the big fishes, just like they wanted it. Like some wise man once said: _'Speak quietly and carry a big stick', Freccia_ was an epitome of this saying - quiet, unassuming, but there was a reason their line had survived the Purges, the burnings, and the rise of those upstarts who called themselves Vongola.

Nobody had known what they were doing, but they had to do something considering they always had cash and weapons at hands. The man sighed. His hair was black and wavy, coming to his shoulders in a wild tumble, peppered at the temples with a little bit of gray. His face was once upon a time undoubtedly handsome, but now, it was scarred with worry lines and scars, a thick red cross on the right of his temple and thin white ones on his cheeks and across nose bridge. His eyebrows were thin and deep set eyes were of an unnerving, pale gray color. Despite the ire he surely had to feel, the man's face was implacable, as if chiseled out of the finest marble and then awakened to life.

"You failed." His voice was normal, recounting the fact like a scientist observing a specimen. But it made the broken man in front of him flinch despite the casual observation. He was covered in blood, his clothes in tatters from the punishment that had been doled out onto his body. Broken fingers were the least of the victim's concern while he was quailing underneath those dispassionate eyes.

"S-Sir, he had help!" the wail was choked out of the torn throat, reminiscing more of a high-pitched gurgle than a speak.

"I didn't ask you if he had help. I ordered you to deliver that boy to me. And you failed. Spectacularly so." The man rose up from the chair, revealing his almost too thin body clothed in a dove gray handmade suit with slate colored tie. If he had been anywhere else, he could've been mistaken for an important, but extremely harried businessman. Pale eyes sought out the two men in the background. "Ensure his silence." Ordering that, he turned away and walked out of the room, not caring for the screams and pleads echoing after him.

His plans had been derailed, but that didn't mean he couldn't circumnavigate them.

This boy was _his._

* * *

The unusual encounter warranted some days of tension within their little group, what with Kirei and Kiritsugu being extra vigilant, even if Harry exasperatedly told them that it was only one time and would they stop with crowding him already, because surely, Kuzuki was more than enough protection on his own. Kirei even tested the man, and much to his disgruntlement, couldn't find a fault In his skill - but if that would hold against any future attackers, it remained yet to be seen.

Kuzuki had been given the last bracelet as a precaution and Kiritsugu glared at the assassin, threatening him that if Harry came even to the tiniest amount of harm under his protection, there wouldn't be hell or heaven for the gray-eyed man to hide from him. And Kuzuki believed the messy-haired young man, even as young as he was, Emiya Kiritsugu was a name with certain notoriety when it came to killing ' _special'_ targets. _'Special'_ as in, being nigh impossible to kill.

Despite the incident, it was almost laughably funny that their days in Florence had been going by relatively peacefully - Kuzuki instructed Harry in mundane subjects in the morning, but afternoon was dedicated to discovering the wonders of both magical and mundane section of Florence. Harry had been fascinated with it all, and it was a heartening sight to see him smile or look at a particularly intriguing subject with those green eyes of his, full of amazement and wonder. The glasses disaster had been switched at the first available opportunity when Kuzuki nudged Harry to lose those big, clunky frames for thin, elegant half-frame square ones. It had made a world of difference – Harry's green eyes were now finally exposed like they deserved to be, and more than one girl or boy in the café or on the street stared at the foreign teenage boy who was accompanied by his tall and silent friend as they conversed or pointed to each other the things or buildings of a particular interest.

(To Harry's mortification, when they returned from _that_ particular shopping expedition, Kiritsugu choked on the water he had been drinking and Kirei… well, the priest just stared for more than just a moment or two, not saying anything.)

Much to Harry's dismay and Kiritsugu's irritation, they didn't manage to find out anything about those colors Harry claimed to see. If it weren't for Kirei's own experience of the phenomenon, the priest would've dismissed it as a rambling of a person whose mind was a basket short of a few eggs. Thing was, no matter where he looked – and he took an advantage of being permitted to access Florence's innermost archives - there wasn't any mention of the strange phenomena the four of them seemed to share.

What they managed to find out was that yellow color was healing one, while red one caused destruction. Blue one, like Kuzuki had, had been baffling, because it hadn't done anything special, until Kirei noticed that Harry was always calm in Kuzuki's presence and when Kuzuki employed his vanishing quirk, there seemed to be a short, but intense usage of it, before it dipped and where Kuzuki had been before, there was nothing or something close to it. If Kirei hadn't been aware of the assassin being there, he would have dismissed him as an ordinary civilian, and nothing to note about, even with the man's strangely efficient way of breathing and walking which would've been a cause for concern if it weren't for the subtle diversion of his attention away from Kuzuki's persona to the man's surroundings.

Whatever the Blue, as they called it, was, even if they didn't really understand its origins and how exactly it worked, it was still a blessing, especially now that they were aware that Harry was, once again, a magnet for trouble.

Harry sighed. At least he had convinced Kirei to allow him to call a couple of Goblins to expand and ward the tiny room in which they had roomed to a reasonable size for all four of them, along with getting some better and sturdier bed frame and softer mattress. Kirei had balked at first, saying it was dangerous not to mention a foolhardy endeavor, what with them having their own enemies, but Harry had been insistent on the issue and logically pointed out that there was no way all four of them could squeeze in such small living quarters, much less live together in them, what with having no proper sleeping place, kitchen, or washing room with toilet. And short of moving elsewhere they didn't have many choices - either suffer the discomfort of do something about it. So it was only right they used their resources, even as dubious as they were, to do something about it, at least for the time being until they decided to move on. Because no one of them had any illusions that they were let go just out of the goodness of the wizarding world's hearts.

His eyebrow twitched.

Speaking of that…. Someone or something was staring at him and it was making the young green eyed ex-wizard antsy.

* * *

A pair of young eyes was staring at the green-eyed foreigner.

The young teen was nothing special, but there was something that inadvertently attracted the young boy's attention. Since that night when Marie came back, babbling about a kind man who was trying to help her to find her _gattina_ – he knew that Maria didn't have any _gattina_ , but that Pedro bastard was still too strong for him to deal with - and the consequent turnabout of that little episode, which should have, by all account, go smoothly like it usually did in such cases - it made him curious.

Maybe it was because this guy was kind to Maria. Not many people were genuinely kind to orphans those days, and there had to be something with that guy if Maria had been so concerned about him.

And so, for the last four days, he had been trailing the foreigner. The first day was to reassure that brat of a girl that her latest victim was alright, but after that, he couldn't really explain why he was doing … well, what he was doing.

A cynical part of him was murmuring that it was a waste of time. The foreigner was there just for a short time, anyway, like many of the tourists here, and he was no doubt pampered little prince, if that little bodyguard of his was anything to go by. Oh, of course the two didn't look like that, but the hidden observer wasn't born yesterday. The signs, however few and hidden they were, they were still undoubtedly there if one looked for them.

But what irked him the most, was that there were times when they went to some alley he knew for a fact didn't have any exit and vanished for two or five hours before returning back into the town.

It didn't make any _sense._

He scooted closer to his target, unaware of one special observer monitoring each and any of his movements.

* * *

Inhale. Exhale.

Repeat.

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to relax while he was waiting on Kuzuki to come back from his little detour to wherever his tutor had to go.

One would think that after being so long under the scrutiny in the wizarding world would have kind of desensitized him to the similar occurrence, even if that occurrence was on an incomparably smaller scale. Instead, it had an opposite effect. He was used to the onlookers' sketchy perusal of his visual person, but it was whole another beast to have been under the attention of someone for a longer time.

Especially when he barely got away from the incompetent minders in the good ole wizarding England as it were. It made his teeth feel on an edge and his fingers twitch for his wand and he wanted nothing more than to have along his invisibility cloak to escape those eyes.

But with summer around the corners - literally, the coat would've been even weirder looking accessory, and considering that they were in the mundane half of the world, Harry didn't exactly have choices.

The only question now was if the stalker in question had malicious intentions or not.

Sighing, he stood up from his chair and headed toward the _gelateria_ to order himself new helping of his limette- strawberry-pineapple-peach-raffaello combination of _gelato,_ generously drizzled over with caramel and dark chocolate. Screw Kirei's disapproval over his eating habits - his throat was _parched_ and if he had to be a bug underneath someone's microscope then he would damn well indulge himself.

The stalker's eyebrow twitched with irritation.

This was unfair.

Here he was, stalking – ahem, _following_ the man, his stomach growling as he hadn't eaten since the morning, thirsty like fuck and wasn't just his luck the object of his stalking was going to indulge himself in the new, more than generous helping of ice cream Just. About. Now?

He licked his lips, acutely feeling their raspy and broken surface, being reminded of his circumstances all the more for the insignificant moment and he was so hot and thirsty….

This was fucking unfair.

 _Maledizione._

He looked that pink little tongue come out of the mouth, licking the tip of the gelato mountain, caressing the frosted over chocolate here and his blood boiled.

And he saw red.

* * *

The next few moments happened almost too fast to discern just what had happened.

One minute, Harry was enjoying his _gelato_ and ignoring the-person-glaring-murder-at-him, and the next, he was practically bowled over by a…

…dark-haired little boy clad in second-hand clothes that were too-large for him, his brown shorts tattered at the hems and the white and red short-sleeved shirt wasn't really any better.

There was crash and screaming around when Harry unceremoniously went down, along with his chair and losing his _gelato_ in process, letting out a taken-aback _'oof'_ of surprise, before he looked into the enraged brown eyes with reddish flecks and the childish face with a snarl painted on the small lips when the boy grabbed him by the front of his shirt with his left hand while his right arm was poised to deck him one-

\- and Harry was too surprised to even take the boy seriously, even if he probably ought to, because ouch, that tackle was painful.

But the boy froze in the midst of the movement when something heavy landed on his head, carefully threading its claws through his messy hair - not to wound him, but the warning was clear.

"Preck." The small bark was authoritative, and well-known sound to the little boy's victim when those golden eyes glared at the bespectacled teen under the attacker.

 _"H-Hedwig?"_

The boy was frozen, not even moving an inch when the regal avian shuffled on his head, all too aware that should he made one wrong movement, those claws that were currently only lightly prickling the skin of his scalp would turn into equipment to mercilessly shred his head.

His victim currently stared at the feathery Samaritan, his stupid green eyes wide and shiny, causing the boy to clench his teeth with suppressed anger.

"Hedwig? How did you find me?"

The bird, apparently named Hedwig, Imperiously barked at the boy, before flapping one of its wings, successfully batting the side of the green-eyed teen's head, causing him to yelp. " _Ouch_ , Hedwig! Whatever I did wrong, I am sorry!"

That only earned the boy another whack and three furious barks, causing the teen to cringe away from the furious predator who was… going by the teen's begging… berating the green-eyed teen?"

"I am sorry, Hedwig, alright? Yes, you are still my friend and no, I didn't mean to leave you back here, but how was I supposed to call you?" The teen finally snapped out, glaring at the bird that paused in the middle of another whack, before settling on its temporary perch regally - or as regally as one fuming mother-hen of an owl ever could while giving out a reluctant hoot of agreement.

The boy then found himself under the green eyed gaze of the owner of the 'Hedwig' bird.

"Mind getting off of me?" The suggestion was mild, but a faint prickle of those talons on his head caused the small boy to reluctantly comply with the request.

* * *

Harry watched the sullen boy who slowly got off of him, and upon Hedwig's imperious bark, reluctantly offered him a hand to help him up.

 _"Scusi, signore."_ The boy's reluctant apology was more of a growl than speak, causing Harry to offer the rascal a thin smile of his own. He didn't appreciate being bowled over with the intent of being mauled for some or another misdeed the brat thought to accuse him, but at least it was better than all that kitten affair… even if not by much. The boy's eyes reminded him of his own - angry, weary but defiant, with the spark of rebellion Harry's own eyes lacked at his age. He tightened his hold on the boy's hand, preventing any kind of escape, causing the boy's eyes widen with panic.

"And don't take your Italian bullshit with me. I know perfectly well that you can speak English." Harry's smile was all shark teeth at this point, no matter how kind it seemed to the casual observers around them as he patted the boy's shoulders amicably as if the incident was nothing else than a tantrum on the young boy's side.

Hedwig left the boy's head, hopping to Harry's shoulder, and the boy's previous fear changed into the wide-eyed amazement as Hedwig preened and fluffed her feathers.

 _"Bellisima…"_ He breathed, his eyes awed, causing Harry to feel both annoyed and amused at the kid's changing of the gears.

"Yes, yes, she is." He agreed. "She is also my best friend since I was eleven years old. Now care to tell me why did you attack me?"

The boy startled back, and his previously childishly amazed voice slammed down into the more distrustful and wary cast. Harry sighed. If all else fails….

"Well. Care for a _gelato?"_

He saw the boy's eyes widen with surprise and want, before the boy got a hold of himself and shook his head.

 _"No. Grazie."_ He grated out, but Harry could clearly see his eyes flicker guiltily to the mess spread on the floor that had been, until some moments ago, Harry's gelato. Harry sighed, as he ruffled his hair, frustrated on what to do with the little marauder. Then, a devious idea slipped in his brain.

"Okay." He assented easily, making the boy blink up at him, this time startled and a little bit disappointed. "Here's the deal. Either you let me buy a _gelato_ , or you talk with me…" He could already see the boy gearing for another one of his mutinous glares…."in English." He finished mildly.

* * *

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to scream and roast the fucker, but it was his own fault he ended in the situation he was now in in the first place. The stupid foreigner offered him to choose between _gelato_ or a talk…and he got a feeling that no matter what would he chose, he wouldn't be let go any time soon. Besides…

He sneaked a glance at the majestic owl sitting on the stranger's shoulder, preening her wing nonchalantly….

… Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

 _"Gelato."_ He spoke out. _"… per favor."_ He grimaced as he added the last word, as if it physically pained him to speak it.

The strange team beamed at him again, less shark-like, but instead the young offender had an uncomfortable thought he knew exactly just how the trapped mouse in front of the hungry cat felt.

He ignored the eyes on him when he had been led to the _gelateria,_ and for a moment, he wanted to be petty and order all possible flavors. Instead, he waited - patiently, mind you - for his temporary captor to cheerfully order the same combination he had used to savor five minutes before, and then expectantly turn to him, raising his eyebrows. As if he was some kind of a weak, helpless baby to be coddled. The boy felt his eyebrow twitch with irritation

 _Okay. Fuck that noise._ Inhaling deeply, he rattled off what he wanted in a snappy Italian directly to the vendor.

 _Spumoni_ , made out of coffee, pistachio, and vanilla. The vendor raised an eyebrow at the green eyed youth in askance, but the foreigner only nodded, giving the boy an indulgent smile which was met with a blistering glare - or it would've been blistering, if the boy had been older and taller than his temporary 'caretaker'. Instead, it could be likened to a glare of a semi-feral, water-drenched kitten.

Mentally shrugging, the vendor nodded and expertly filled the cone with the requested - more like demanded for- _gelato_ , smiling indulgently when the green-eyed teen fished out the money and paid for both of the treats before passing the boy his _spumoni_ and then grabbing his own portion before thanking the vendor and cheerfully ambling away, while still holding the boy's hand in his own, much to the boy's ire.

The walk wasn't long, but much to the boy's surprise they stopped at the staircase that was more or less abandoned at that time, considering most of the people went out of the sun for lunch. So there weren't too many people looking at the strange pair with a white owl on the elder's shoulder.

The stone was surprisingly cool beneath their bodies, even as warmed by the sunshine as it was. Strangely, the green-eyed teen didn't ask the boy anything, instead letting the silence cozy up in the space between the two of them, leaving them to eating their respective portion of the frozen goodness in peace.

The hand holding the boy's own was thin and fragile, almost worryingly so. The teen's palm was calloused, proving that its owner wasn't spoiled little _stronzo_ like the boy had first assumed. It made him feel a little bit guilty about his rash attack earlier, even with Maria's assurances and pleads that this latest would-be victim of the _gattina_ scheme was a good guy.

And of course, it left him with the nagging little question of… _why?_

Why was that guy so sickeningly _kind._

The boy had known the world was cruel - to the impoverished orphans like him it always was. He had a mother who wasn't all right in the head, and most of the time it was him who took care of her than opposite. The streets raised him, with all of their laws, rightful and not, and he knew that might made right.

He knew that in any other case, he should have been shouted at, sneered at, derided, or maybe pitied. Not taken in like a - like some kind of a… little brother and treated to a snack he had never tasted before. He sneaked a cautious gaze at the green eyed teen, but the teen in question kept his attention on his own treat, humming here and there a few bars of some strange song.

The guy was nothing special at first glance - just one more tourist, but now, when the boy was looking at him closer, it wasn't so.

Green eyes being the fashionable shades, too-messy-to-be-natural black hair, and despite being clad in good quality clothes, the older boy's body was, despite the small amount of muscles, more of skin and bones than it was healthy.

 _'Maybe he's sick.'_

The thought made him uncomfortable. He didn't know why, but it just did.

He wanted to ask. In fact, he had about million questions for the guy, but he stayed stubbornly silent, enjoying his unexpected treat with relish while he pondered this latest enigma sitting beside him.

When they finished the ice cream - the younger sooner than the older - his hand was released from the hold, causing the boy to blink with surprise as he looked up at the green eyed teen.

He was met with a small smile. "Thanks for the company." The stranger said, before rising and walking back the way they came from, leaving the befuddled six-year old sitting on the sun-warmed stairs, the tangy taste of _spumoni_ still sticking to the roof of his mouth.

* * *

"That was surprisingly kind of you."

Harry threw a mild glare at the commentator of his latest good deed. However, he was still in a too good mood from befuddling the tyke looking like angry, drenched kitten. "Yeah, well. My good deed for the day is done, thanks for noticing." He snarked, keeping up with Kuzuki's strides while they navigated the ancient streets.

"And your winged companion?" The gray-eyed assassin asked, sneaking a glance at the aforementioned raptor. He didn't know that the owls could be trained to defend their masters, and the white one riding on Harry's right shoulder was an impressive specimen of its species.

Harry smiled while fondly stroking the owl's chest feathers, prompting it to hoot softly while it began to preen his hair - or at least as much as it could, considering they were on the move. The street was more or less abandoned, with an occasional person outright staring at the strange trio walking through. "Hedwig was my first gift and first friend." The said avian puffed up importantly, drawing a fond chuckle out of his throat while she began preening Harry's hair. "She's smart as a whip, too."

The now named 'Hedwig' shortly barked, and Kuzuki almost heard the unspoken _'And don't you forget it, mister!'_ in the sharp sound.

"But how did she find you?" He asked, perplexed. "Owls are by nature night creatures and to the top of it all, you came from England."

Harry hummed as he gave Hedwig one last scratch. "Wizarding owls are different. They can find anyone when we want to send a letter and Hedwig is way smarter than this bunch, so I shouldn't have been surprised that she would follow me to here."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Then she is a liability." Kuzuki snapped, grabbing the green-eyed teen's wrist and tugging him along, causing him to stumble forward and the own to hoot out its annoyance.

"Wha- What do you mean she is a liability!?" Harry yelped as he struggled to stop being dragged, without much success as Kuzuki finally got fed up and practically hauled him up into a princess carry and at the same time causing the owl to hurriedly fly back in the air with an offended shriek and not-so-careful scratch of deadly claws against his scalp's tender skin.

Harry barely had time to think between the calm walk-around and then the sudden change of his position before feeling Kuzuki crouch and in the next time, they were soaring through the air and landing on the roof, with Hedwig offended shriek nearly deafening both of them. Kuzuki glared at the bird. Hedwig glared back, before they reached some kind of a mutual understanding well above Harry's comprehension, causing the regal owl to fly away, blending between the high buildings of the ancient town surprisingly well despite her color.

"HED – !" Harry's scream was interrupted by hand slapping on his mouth and grey eyes glaring at him.

The young wizard was stopped in his tracks. This was not his usual kid and stern teacher, but someone whose hands were mired in the blood of hundreds.

"What's to say they couldn't use her to track you down?" Kuzuki hissed his voice low and dangerous.

Green eyes widened with understanding and then they were off, just in time to miss the first cracks of Apparation on the street below the roof they had been on.

* * *

The gathering in their tiny room that evening was uncomfortable.

"So they are a little bit cleverer than I anticipated them to be." Kiritsugu muttered, his eyes dark and hooded with though as his mind was blazing through the scenarios and things he would have to modify to make them work. He peered into the still half-full cup of coffee before deciding the usually tasty brew was now a lukewarm sludge. Grimacing, he rose from the chair beside bed and put the cup on the table. He then leaned against the furniture himself crossing his arms on his chest.

Harry's head was bowed as he sat on the bed, his legs twisted into a loose pretzel with the hands on his tights, as if he were meditating. It was worrying for all three of the assassins that their tiny friend was so very still, not talking, not moving, not… reacting. The owl in question was nudging him, looking fairly guilty for a bird, but the messy-haired wizard didn't react, even when the owl more or less slunk her body under unresponsive right palm in attempt to getting him to pet her. Thankfully Kirei's bounded field managed to distort the signal and enable the priest to disable tracking charm on the owl, even if it took at least half an hour and many reproachful golden glared and snaps of the sharp beak to do so.

"And now they have at least approximate location of where we are." Kirei sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, gingerly nursing a headache of having to use his spiritual abilities on the annoying avian that glared at him while ruffling the pristine feathers as if trying to dislodge some invisible sludge.

(Kiritsugu wouldn't put it past the bird if it was doing so.)

"Probably." Kuzuki assented, gray eyes behind the glasses narrowing at the thought. It nigh rankled at him that someone was hunting Harry just to make him participate in that mess back in England, without any rhyme and reason, aside Harry's dubious and unwanted claim of being the wizarding world's savior from their little bogeyman.

"So. We will have to either relocate or make them disappear." Kiritsugu's conclusion was clinically cold, causing Harry to blink and raise head. "Or both."

"Why?" The three assassins looked at Harry. "Why what?" Kirei inquired.

"I've disclaimed anything and everything going in England. That ought to be enough for me not to force me to go back. Why do they still want to make me go back?" Harry's voice was calm, almost unnervingly so.

"Dumbledore." Kiritsugu grimaced as he growled out the name. Pushing away from the table, he crossed the space to plop himself down on the bed, wincing out of habit, even if Kirei reinforced the damn thing to be sturdier and not to croak as much as before. "You already successfully made a mess out of Tommy's plans, so it isn't a stretch to guess he wants to use you as much as he can before things take the not-so-fun turn." Harry shot his a reproachful look at his wording, but otherwise, the teen wizard didn't protest.

All of them knew it was true. But for Dumbledore – the paragon of Light side - to go so far as to force an unwilling person to participate in what seemed to be an one-sided slaughter was still a little too hard to swallow. "The only thing that remains is whether we let it go or make an example out of them." Kiritsugu sighed, ruffling Harry's head absentmindedly.

"We do that, they will have a legitimate reason to come after us. " Kuzuki shook his head. "Kirei. How long will it take to you to tie the ends here?"

The priest paused as he looked at Kuzuki. "I'm not done with it yet, but I suppose I could do the rest of it in Vatican." His brows furrowed at the amount of paperwork involved and the inevitably uncomfortable questions why he had to interrupt his mission on such a short notice without alerting the proper authorities.

"Harry?" The wizard jerked when Kiritsugu prodded his knee. "Are you alright?"

Green eyes looked up, grim and determined. "I am. It's just…" Harry sighed. "I didn't think they would go that far to get me back." He shook his head, offering his friends a small, pathetic smile. "Shows how much I knew, huh?"

Hedwig barked, prompting him to glance at her, and causing the green and amber eyes to meet. The owl barked once again, and if Kiritsugu wasn't mistaken, she outright glared at her wizard, causing Harry to huff with exasperation and pet her on her head, the corners of his mouth twisting up in a fond smirk. "Yes, Hedwig, no pity party for me. I know how you hate moping."

He then sobered again. Looking up at Kirei, he addressed the priest, while still petting Hedwig much to her pleasure, "No matter how convenient would be to kill them, we can't. Because if we do, they would have a legitimate reason to pursue us, no matter my wishes on the issue. So do we have any other options?"

* * *

He frowned as he noticed that the tourist didn't have the owl along this time as he sat at the edge of the fountain, one hand making lazy ripples through the cool water.

He had been watching him off and on, and at the times he had been spotted, the green-eyed man invited him to come along for a _gelato._ They became quite a regulars at the old man's Matteo _gelateria,_ and always, his hand was grabbed into a gentle hold while he was led to random quiet spot for them to consume their treats in peace, and always, when he finished his own, the green-eyed man – or teen - let go of his hair, giving him a choice whether to stay or go his own way.

Usually, he departed. No sense in staying and be subjected to idiotic questions.

Sometimes, he stayed.

They didn't speak, so his questions, numerous as they were, didn't get the answers.

He knew that the stranger - Harry, as he was called - was an Englishman. He wasn't that dumb not to manage to learn at least some foreign languages, despite him pretending to know only Italian in their short exchanges.

Besides, the idiot could do with some more knowledge of Italian if he was serious about being in _mamma_ Italia for some time yet. Really, he was doing this Harry person a favor.

 _"Che stai facendo?"_

He questioned Harry even before he knew he wanted to ask him.

He was met with an amused gaze. "Still insisting you don't know English? My, how stubborn."

Scowling, he crossed his arms, thin as they were, on his chest, painfully aware just how drab his clothes were in comparison with all the tourist-y people here.

Not that he cared.

Really.

" _Pensavo_. Thinking. Did I say it right?" And there was that amusement again, making him bristle weakly even as he gave him a sharp nod.

"You know, for someone who doesn't talk much, you are surprisingly good teacher. Ever thought about it?"

The non-sequitur made the boy blink, completely thrown for a moment, before a fetching blush stole over his cheeks even if he unconsciously made a horrified grimace at the idea.

 _"Tu sei veramente un idiota."_ He spat back, dark hair ruffled like fur of particularly annoyed kitten, crossing his arms on his thin chest as to ward off the idiot's stupidity from infecting him.

The green-eyed _bastardo_ had the nerve to giggle at him of all things. _Giggle._ Such an unmanly thing to do and the boy swore he would sooner be deader than door-nail than make such undignified noises like this.

But then, his companion-not-companion was a bit too downtrodden than normal.

"You won't have to suffer me for long now." Harry's shoulders slumped. He wore a simple dark grey t-shirt, and torn jeans trousers, looking more of a locale than a tourist, if it weren't for a pair of expensive glasses on his nose.

Something within the boy's gut twisted at the thought. At first, he thought it to be a relief, because who needs an annoying touristy guy hang off of their wrist every time when they eat _gelato_ in your company, seriously - but on the other side, not so much.

 _"È una liberazione."_ He grunted out, rolling his eyes heavenward. _"La vita va avanti."_

His snark earned him an offended poke in the side. "That was not nice, you know."

 _"La verita fa male."_ He stuck his tongue out, and it was almost worth it to behave so childishly, especially when he saw Harry's half-shocked, half-offended face.

"Why, you little - !" His neck was grabbed into hold causing him to emit an offended squawk, and then, his scalp was treated with a semi-rough noogie, making his already bad hair look even worse. Even if he was in such an undignified position, he felt his cheeks stretch into something nearby bystanders could confidently call a mischievous grin.

* * *

If it weren't for the Hedwig Affair, as Kiritsugu called it, which earned him a good whack on his head from the aforementioned bird and a reproachful bark to go along with, Harry and his friends would have stayed in the ancient city a good deal longer than they actually did. The goblins were pretty peeved that their little gift in the shape of bracelets could be circumvented by an _owl_ of all things, prompting the further research in the capabilities of the feathery menaces and more than just a pair of glares at Harry's feathery friend.

However, not everything was lost, in Harry's humble opinion. He couldn't exactly regret finding Kuzuki, and he would miss that little street brat he took upon feeding with _gelato_ in an unspoken exchange for language lessons in Italian. It was also an amusing pastime of his, needling the kid and watching his reactions. Harry could've happily played a stupidly oblivious tourist if that meant he could see more of the kid's various face expressions, even if his favorite one was still the one when the kid saw Hedwig for the first time.

Reddish brown eyes all big and innocent and full of awe and adoration for a beauty of Hedwig's caliber, who was also an undisputed apex predator in her own right. It made Harry's both warm up and hurt at the same time when he thought that was what he probably looked like when Hagrid gave her to him. It kind of hurt to see just what he had lost through the years he had spent in the wizarding world.

He managed to sneak out of the room without accidentally waking up his friends. The dawn was barely in the making, but Harry was bound and determined to catch the last impressions of his stay in Florence and also to make breakfast for a change.

And for this, he needed ingredients. Thus his little unsupervised trip to outside.

The air was cool and crisp with the scent of flowers hanging in the space, not yet mired by the morning traffic's exhausts. The old part of the town was a charming mixture of the old and new - grayish-white stone-patterned streets with brick houses done in pale tones, the space almost looked like a ghost town, forgotten in time, aside from a still burning electric lamp here and there and the colorful flowers swaying in the gentle breeze and the stucco sculptures crawling at the walls in different shapes and sizes enhancing the elegance of the buildings.

Despite the early hour, there were already people on the streets, here and there, hurrying to work and opening the shops in preparation for the new wave of tourists and permanent residents sluicing through the well-worn city walks and roads.

Humming, Harry headed to the market to buy vegetables and fresh bread, along with piping hot coffee and tea. He couldn't help but snag four pieces of tiramisu from Marjorie, a charming little old lady that was always cheerful. He bid her a warm goodbye, and slowly headed back home – it was kind of strange to contemplate their antique almost-hole-in-the-wall room had become more of a home to him than Dursleys' house ever had, but it seemed appropriate at the moment.

His eyebrows rose when his ways was barred by three very imposing-looking men in black suits. A quick once-over revealed that they couldn't be wizards - they were clothed in muggle suits, for heaven's sake, but Harry still got an uneasy feeling in his gut. Those men were unlike that bottom-of-the-barred bastard who had accosted him before, and Harry doubted they would be so quick to anger as well.

Mentally, he cursed.

 _What a shitty way to begin a day._ And it seemed to be so promising, too.

"Sir. Our Master wants to see you." The middle one, with a scar across his nose and bald head said his voice a deep, almost reassuring baritone.

Harry's eyebrows shot high.

A polite one.

Well, that was a first.

"I would love to, but I am expected back with my colleagues." He replied glibly. "So if we could postpone the meeting, it would be wonderful."

It was a kind of a strange standoff in the middle of the street, a teenage boy, laden with the bags full of vegetables and other breakfast paraphernalia, against three grown up, MIB-rejects boring their stares at his person.

The one on the left twitched, obviously a hothead. Harry couldn't see their eyes, hidden as they were behind their sunglasses, like some kind of stereotypical thug villains, but he would bet the long-hair was glaring at him like he wanted the poor wizard self-combust right here and now.

(Un)Fortunately for the grunt, Harry was, despite his best efforts, still in one piece.

"You - !" The grunt snapped, only to shut his mouth when the middle grunt? Boss grunt? Raised his arm and the lefty-grunt stepped back.

"Of course. We expected that. Though…" He motioned to someone to the left outside of Harry's sight, unintentionally drawing Harry's eye to the person to whom the motion was aimed at.

Green eyes widened with horror when he perceived a small bundle the fourth grunt held in front of him like a stray cat with barely disguised disgust on his face due to the boy's unkempt state. The boy was snarling at the man, still trying to struggle, but he was unable to do so, and Harry damned well know why.

The kid - just like Harry, when the young wizard was a brat himself, had been beaten. Of course, nothing visible - to any passerby, a man was simply holding a boy by the scruff of his clothes, preventing him to struggle too much, and the boy being too tired to really do any damage.

But those jerky movements, almost indiscernible grimace of pain on the young face…

Harry's head snapped back as he glared in the Boss grunt with all the heat of the thousand suns.

 _"You - !"_

"I understand if you are otherwise occupied, " The Shitty Boss Grunt, as Harry 'upgraded' him, smoothly interrupted him, "But as you see, Master Gavilano's orders take a precedence. You can still refuse, but it wouldn't be advisable to do so."

Harry gritted his teeth as the man flashed him a smarmy smirk. The bastard had him by the proverbial balls and both of them knew it.

"Let him go."

He snapped out, causing the Shitty Boss Grunt's eyebrows to rise inquiringly.

"He has nothing to do with this. Let him go and I will come with you without fuss." On this issue, Harry wouldn't budge.

The small bundle of rage in the grunt's hold stilled, previously anger-narrowed eyes now looking at Harry with both panic and disbelief.

A tense silence stretched between the slender wizard and four grunts, Harry's own green orbs glaring at the Shitty Boss Grunt with almost scalding intensity.

Finally, the Shitty Boss Grunt gave a sharp nod to the underling who held Harry's little teacher, prompting him to place the now still bundle of rage on the pavement with almost negligent ease, while the Shitty Boss Grunt's companions sidled to Harry, forcing him to put the bags on the pavement and then herding him away.

* * *

The boy trembled. Biting his lips, the nails on his hands dug into palms painfully as he clenched his hands into unforgiving fists while he glared toward the way the small group walked away.

He had been a witness to many shows of violence in his young life - it was a part and parcel of his upbringing in the poorest quarters of the town he and his mother had set their roots to.

(He didn't know why, but his mother insisted in moving here, babbling about something about better prospects for his future, but for the life of him he didn't understand what this prospects ought to be.)

(It seemed to be something in line with fire or something. For all he knew, his mother could be speaking about arson or firefighting or something equally as dumb.)

Murder. Larcency. Extortion. Violence.

But nothing - _nothing_ could compare with that feeling in his chest - the burning anger and ice cold shame that he had been used as a leverage for the scum to catch and take away one of the rare people who treated him not as a present or future menace to the polite society, but someone with his own ideas and opinions, however contrarily the boy behaved in their little meetings.

Gritting his teeth, he furiously wiped away the moisture gathered in his eyes and then, his eyes steeled as he prepared himself to do what was needed.

It was time to repay the debt.

* * *

The quiet of the tiny room, with its three still sleeping inhabitants was rudely interrupted by urgent banging on the door.

Jerking, Kiritsugu snapped awake, only to roll off the bed, taking with him the covers and leaving both his esteemed co-snoozers without additional warmth while he was wrapped in the sheets like mummy, with only his messy-haired head poking out of the said cocoon.

The esteemed Magus Killer was not esteemed at all at this moment - sleep-mussed hair, barely open eyes and he was spitting out the curses and oaths like supremely enraged cobra while he wiggled in an attempt to get out of his cottony prison, only to worsen his situation.

Both Kirei and Kuzuki had more luck with being awake - Kirei was still shirtless, but he did get his hand on a couple of Black Keys (thankfully still unlit), while Kuzuki muzzily glared at the door, attempting to set it on fire by the force of his glare alone.

Luckily for the door, and unluckily for the assassin in question, the door remained whole. Which was just as well - or maybe not, once Kuzuki got a hold of that brat yelling something about something on the other side of it.

Kiritsugu was still struggling with his predicament when Kirei swiftly stood up, and heedless of his state of partial nudity strode to the door and yanked them open, stopping the person on the other side of them in the mid-rant, and all three of assassins clearly heard the squeak that followed the abrupt interruption of the brat's diatribe.

Because it _was_ a brat, and judging by Kuzuki's shock-widened eyes when Kirei moved away to let the kid in, a very familiar one.

* * *

Kirei was not in a mood for bullshit.

Firstly, he woke up alone, without Harry by his side and instead, cuddling into his fellow assassins.

(Oh the horror.)

(Kiritsugu also managed to steal all the blankets when he fell off the bed, the jerk.)

Not a good beginning of the morning.

Secondly, there was no Harry anywhere in their little haven.

The morning began to worsen.

Thirdly, some brat was banging on the door he shouldn't have to even notice, much less find, yelling something about him being gone.

And Kirei had a sinking feeling that he knew the missing person in question very well.

The brat's wide-eyed surprise when he saw just who had opened the door was small satisfaction, but Kirei had more important things to do at the moment than making the brat in question a mental wreck for undoubtedly being the one who made Harry go fishing for trouble… again.

He motioned the brat forward, and when the kid hesitantly followed his wordless order, Kirei gently closed the door - _so very gently_ \- before turning to the brat and glaring at him.

"Talk."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters or song used herein. I do own this story and all of it's twists and turns, though.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I am making an exception and posting this chapter a day ahead of schedule because I can't post at my regular time, and also because this is kind of my little gift for y'all for Easter. So Happy Easter to you and I hope you had fun, one way or another, I am only adding to it. As expected, almost all of you who dared to guess who was Harry's cranky little teacher guessed right, but now I've hidden another Easter egg in here and am curious if you will recognize that one. So ready or not, three, two, one, _GO!_ The search - ahem, start is open!

 _ **Warnings:** __**AU**_ on multiple scales, too many POV's and gratuitous use of Italian. Che. I should've studied that one instead of the one I am currently munching on. Well, no use crying over split milk, I'd say. Also, violence ahoy.

* * *

 _I still love you  
I still want you  
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves  
Like galaxies in my head  
On and on the mysteries unwind themselves  
Eternities still unsaid  
'Til you love me _

_('A Thousand Years' by Sting)_

* * *

The atmosphere in the room was tense enough that a boy felt one more careless move or sound on his side would have him buried ten feet under, no ifs, ands or buts.

Despite seeing the strange tourist's occasional companion - the one with glasses - for some reason he hadn't thought the man would pose any kind of danger. However, being in the room - which was a lot bigger in the inside than it seemed to be from the outside ( _so much that it was illogical,_ the rational side of his brain buzzed in the back of his mind,) and being confronted by three people who were more than capable of dishing some serious harm kept him tense and on edge.

He wanted to bolt. There was something seriously wrong with the three of them - them being ordinary as fuck and they had _no rights_ to be dangerous, none at all, but his inner sense practically ordered him to be still and for the fuck's sake, _be_ _quiet_ except if asked.

And he had no inclination to go against this tiny voice. He liked living, thank you very much

Swallowing harshly and being acutely aware of the bare-chested man on his side (conveniently cutting the route of escape), he began to talk.

 _"L'hanno portato."_ He began, the heart in his rib-cage hammering like the one of a scared rabbit's. His mind running mile a minute, he gathered his knowledge of English, pitiful as it was, and tried again. "They… Took him. Wanted to take me, but he said to leave me alone and he would go with them."

The messy-haired man on the floor ceased to struggle to get out of his strange cocoon, and his eyes, twin voids of darkness bore into the boy's reddish brown orbs with an unnerving intensity.

"You better have a _damn_ good reason to be worth of his sacrifice, brat." His voice was cold and quiet, the voice of death. "And pray to whichever god or devil you worship that any information you know will be enough for us to rescue him." That made the bespectacled man sitting on the bed send him a glare, but he didn't protest.

"What Kiritsugu said." He murmured, pushing the glasses higher, grey eyes watching the boy like a hawk. "Do you know who were they and why would they take him?"

That earned him a glare from the boy. _"Non so."_ He spat out, almost hissing his own outrage at the situation, but keeping his feelings in check. "They said they wanted him for their master – Gavilano or something like that." The boy frowned, his hands clenching in helpless fury. "Very _ricco."_

"Kirei?" Kiritsugu finally untangled himself out of the covers, but made no motion to stand up whatsoever. "You know anything about him?" He addressed the bare-chested man at the boy's side, causing him to blink and furrow his eyebrows.

"Not really." Kirei murmured back. "They donate to Church from time to time a good amount of money and there were some rumors about disturbing activities in their areas, but not on the level for either of our kind having been needed to be sent after them."

 _'Either of our kind.'_ Well, if that didn't sound ominous, the boy didn't know what would. He suppressed a shudder, but couldn't help himself from flinching back when the bespectacled man rose from the bed and approached him.

Just what was that stupid _idiota_ involved in to keep such dangerous company…

…and moreover did he know that they weren't fluffy bunnies in human guise they were presenting themselves as?

Looking into those emotionless gray eyes, he had to swallow the saliva and control his bladder.

 _Dio mio._ This man wasn't a lowly thug bragging in _taverna_ about being dangerous. He didn't need to.

The boy was reminded of the rare occasion when he listened to the ancient _prete_ , when he was telling to the kids that story about the angel murdering all of the Egyptian's firstborns, only omitting the Israel because of the Holy One's promise to Moses. Dark, silent, and invisible, but when he struck, there was inevitable death and destruction, nobody and nothing safe from him.

The boy wasn't one of those pious people, life was hard enough without worshipping some entity that didn't care a flying fuck when people died, were killed and lived in such poor conditions the life was more of an everyday road trip through hell than anything else.

"Kiritsugu. I think the inquisition can wait. Let's take care of his injuries first." The man spoke and this time, the boy flinched back, only to stiffen when a large hand touched his bony shoulder, gentle but firm enough to mean business.

* * *

Harry was not in a good mood. Not only did his little surprise went sour, but he had a feeling that when – not _if,_ but _when_ \- his friends found out that he got himself in trouble again, there would be hell to pay. It had been bad enough that the wizards had spooked them with their surprisingly intelligent use of Hedwig to find out just where was he hiding, but for _Muggles_ of all people to nab him from the street was the epitome of shame.

Because they had to be Muggles, what with them having guns and no wands in sight. He scowled again when he heard them mutter to each other in Italian, sorely wishing that he would've taken his lessons with the kid more seriously so that he would now have better idea what they wanted him for, and why. For all he knew they mistook him for some other person, but they had been weirdly specific and intent on getting him to come along without force, even if their methods were a little underhanded.

He was denied the privilege of sight, discourtesy of Shitty Boss Grunt having wrapped around his head a silky black piece of fabric, so he couldn't deduce where they were driving him. The drive alone was silent, no sounds vying past the undoubtedly reinforced steel and impenetrable glass, the only sound aside from a spoken word or two in Italian in the car's cabin was purring of the motor and breathing of his co-passengers- two on the each side of him, and two in front of him.

He scowled. They didn't take any chances on him slipping away, and that pissed him off. Aside from gross incompetence, the only thing more infuriating was competence to such degree it bordered on ridiculous. He would take the Graveyard any time, any day, instead of… this! And wasn't that an irony, wishing to be surrounded by stupid wizarding idiots just to have a chance to save himself. If only Voldemort would be in his place right now… Harry felt the anger fighting with snide amusement at the imagined scene. Muggle thugs teaching the evil Dark Lord about wonders of competence - Harry would give all the contents away in his vaults in a heartbeat just to see that.

Sighing, he slumped back into the car's seat, the scent of leather and expensive cologne tickling his nose.

Well, at least he couldn't ever say that his life was dull.

* * *

Kuzuki eyed the now bandaged boy critically. Amusingly enough, the little boy had fumed and growled through the procedure like some kind of a small wild animal, and there were some almost-well-concealed flinches when Kuzuki treated some of the bigger injuries. The gray-eyed assassin hid a frown. People who took Harry obviously didn't have any compunctions with harming a kid to have leverage over someone, and that in itself was a worrying thought. They had been - or at least had someone who was intelligent enough to take a notion of Harry's weakness, and all of them were ruthless enough to exploit it in the bright daylight without calling too much attention to themselves. Kuzuki knew that sort of people very well, what with his dealing with Triads and underground in their dirtiest shapes and form.

The boy in question was now pouting - if someone asked him, he would tell them that he was _frowning,_ thank you very much, but to Kuzuki, it was a cross between pout and a sulk, a tiny kitten in the room full of apex predators uselessly fluffing up in an attempt to look the biggest, meanest and the most untouchable thing in the room. He had seen the boy's eyes, how they flashed with recognition that he had unknowingly stepped into a devil's pit – the kid had good instincts - but to Kuzuki's intrigue that didn't stop him from doing a little bit of posturing on his own. Even if it was all the more pathetic and ineffectual considering half his body was bandaged up, and his cheeks were puffed up with annoyance.

"We will have to gather information on Gavilano before coming up with any sort of the plan." He heard Kirei's comment as he turned around to stash away the remaining bandages and ointments.

"Ya _think?"_ Kiritsugu bit out, his eyebrows furrowing with frustration at this newest hurdle in front of him. "And how do you suppose we do that, genius? We don't even know where they took him!" Kirei didn't exactly frown, but his expression of miffed consternation, however minute it was, made an appearance for the moment before his face smoothed out again.

An imperious bark tugged their attention to the newcomer perching at the window. Blinking, Kuzuki felt his lips stretch into an involuntary smile, which, by the boy's freaked out stare, maybe a mite too vindictive to be kid-friendly.

"Hedwig. May I take it so you will lead us to him, great lady?" He addressed the regal owl, only to get an annoyed glare in return.

 _'Try to stop me and I will gouge your eyes out._ ' Her amber eyes seemed to say, and for yet another moment Kuzuki got an uncomfortable premonition that this bird was indeed way more intelligent than anyone would take her for.

* * *

The boy frowned angrily when he was unceremoniously kicked out of the room.

As if he was just a useless milk-toothed brat.

Never mind that it was true, but it galled him those fucking foreigners just outright _dismissed_ him, as if he wasn't worth anything.

Something within him relaxed when he was out of the Devil Nest, like he mentally began to call the strange room he had found himself in just an hour ago. Despite the three men - teenagers really - being as ordinary and unassuming as they please, something within the boy got _hives_ when in their presence. As in that nagging sense, which he didn't got all that often, but definitely not in such a magnitude until today - that one wrong twitch on his side, and wrath of heaven and hell _combined_ would feel like a _luxury_ in comparison with what the strange trio would dish on his person.

The strange gray-eyed one was the least disturbing of all three. Maybe too stern looking and too serious, but the boy unconsciously relaxed when the man tended to his wounds and bruises. He couldn't help but notice the man seemed to be an expert in that field, considering the man took care of all of his wounds and bruises swiftly and efficiently, with nary a pain on the boy's side.

But that wild-haired one, and the shirtless one - Kiri-something, both of them, why the fuck were Japanese names so complicated-sounding, the boy would never know – those two were human-shaped abyss on their own. Usually, the boy prided himself on knowing people and their intentions, but with those two, the readings he got from them may as well be blank slates, or at least ones horrifyingly skewed. For civilians – _supposed_ civilians - the boy got a feeling the world would fare much better if they hadn't lived in it.

He swallowed thickly when he thought of that _idiota_ being in their company.

The thought firmed his resolve, and his eyes burned as he began to run into his hide-out.

He would just have to find him first and warn him about the vipers in human guise cozying up to him.

(And if that meant the _idiota_ would be all his, well that was nobody's business but his own.)

* * *

The thugs were surprisingly polite about escorting him, which made Harry's unease grow. He would rather be dismissed or even treated like dirt - because that would mean they were underestimating him, and an enemy who underestimates you is always the best kind of enemy - which means, soon to be dead one – but those men treated him with all the due courtesy, and that was setting Harry's teeth on edge.

He didn't know where they were. He didn't know why had their so-called boss _'requested'_ his presence. And much to his irritation he didn't know if they were wizards or not. They _seemed_ to be Muggles, but that didn't mean a whit if Harry couldn't confirm for sure.

Not for the first time Harry cursed existence of the Statute of Secrecy, and quite vehemently, too.

He bit back a hysterical chuckle at the thought of missing the wizarding world's incompetence. Who would have thought, right?

He focused back to the sounds and sensations. Him being deprived of sight didn't mean he couldn't use any other senses or his brain. Any information would be a piece that would help him in his escape later on.

The scents of the expensive cologne. Whispering of the clothes. Sun. Faint mutters of the servants working. The stairs, cool feelings of getting into a building… an old one, considering the smell, and the sounds were echo-y. Harry frowned harder as he tried to concentrate more.

Finally, after many twists and turns that made Harry's head spin and irritating him further, they stopped in front of the door.

"This way, _signore_." The Shitty Boss Grunt's smarmy voice spoke out as they stopped in front of something. Something that smelled of polish and wood and then, the Shitty Boss Grunt knocked. Waiting a moment until a faint voice bade him in, he then swung the smell - _door,_ Harry's mind absentmindedly supplied him - outward, and the whole group stepped in.

Harry felt the grunts fan out and retreat back through the door they came, leaving him with the owner of the unknown voice. The doors behind them closed silently, like a sentence in the wings.

Harry felt his eyebrow twitch. He really hated competent grunts. But at least they didn't bind his arms, which was a small ray of hope in the entire mess. With an irritated huff, he reached up and tore off the silky black material. Green eyes blinked while he tried to get used to the sudden influx of light, scowling with irritation when the surroundings around him were blurry again.

Oh right. The thugs also took his glasses.

Did Harry mention he really loathed those competent bastards?

"So we finally meet, _caro._ I would apologize on taking your time so suddenly, but as it was destined to happen, I only… hurried up the process." The unknown voice purred out and Harry had to squint his eyes to see a shadow approach him. From what he could discern, it was a tall man, clad in dove gray suit with dark hair and, when he came closer, even darker eyes that seemed feverishly bright when the man took his right hand and kiss the top of it, causing Harry to blanch.

"Er, excuse me, but I don't believe that we've met." He tried to tug his hand away, only for the man's cool hand to clutch at it and Harry stiffened when he had been brought into an intimate hug, smelling the expensive cologne on the man's clothes.

The man paused. "Didn't you get my letters, _caro mio?_ I've sent you many of them – I am Marzio." The man's chest hummed as he purred out the words. Harry blinked. The name didn't tell him anything. Uncomfortable with the proximity, he began to wiggle out of the man's embrace only for his captor's hands to tighten around his waist more.

"Didn't your _madre_ tell you anything about the night she made a contract with me?" The man's voice became darker, more dangerous, and Harry winced when the hold became too painful. Luckily, the man - Marzio - seemed to notice it and he loosened his hold with a small incline of his head to show his remorse.

"Um. My mother is dead and I seriously think you've got a wrong person." Harry's instincts screamed to get as far away from the demented nutjob as he could.

The man stilled. "My lovely Lily is dead?" He demanded, his face still shrouded within the shadows. Mentally, Harry cursed the positioning of the windows. Turned south, there was enough of light to creep into the room, but the man's face was still silhouetted in the darkness. "Why was I not informed of this?

Harry shrugged. "Probably for the same reason I've found out the true cause of their death only when I was eleven years old." He mumbled, hoping against hope the man wouldn't hear him.

His chin was lifted by a small nudge of the man's finger. "None of that now, _caro._ What is important is that you've finally come to me and the contract could be fulfilled."

Harry blinked, his eyes taking in the hazy details of the man's face. Littered with scars, with the most prominent one standing out in the shape of thick red cross on his temple and smaller white one across his nose bridge and his cheeks, with dark, hollow eyes looking at him with feverish light in their depths. He swallowed thickly as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart underneath his rib-cage.

He had seen that look before, and it didn't bode well for him.

"You were talking about the contract. What contract did you mean?"

The man was silent and for a moment Harry feared he wouldn't get the answer. But then, Marzio shook his head and offered him what was supposed to be a kind smile.

"I've met my darling little blossom when she was seven years old, along with her sister." Marzio's face turned fond as he thought of that time. "She was a fearless little _leonessa_ even then, protecting her family like that. I was thirteen years old, and we've been ambushed by Falcchio _famiglia_ at the time." He made a face, as if swallowing something unpleasant. "To tell the truth, those civilians were in the wrong place at the wrong time. An unfortunate coincidence, if you know what you mean." He shrugged carelessly as he led the attentively listening Harry to the nearby couch. "They were all supposed to die. Our existence is not the one we wish to broadcast around like those Vongola fools do. Long story short, she managed to subdue one of the grunts with a baseball bat and then picked up his gun to shoot the man who wanted to get a drop on me. When all was said and done, we were supposed to silence all the witnesses." Marzio grinned savagely at the thought of what happened next. "But the _piccola leonessa_ wouldn't allow it. Because she saved my life, I honored that and allowed her family to go free… however in exchange; she had to swear to me that her firstborn will be mine."

Harry stared. "Okay." He said with forced calm. "So she saved your life, and you instead demanded that she gives up her first baby. I am sorry to say, but that doesn't make sense."

It was already hard enough to believe that his mum had been such a badass when she was little. If he ever got in contact with Dursleys, Harry definitely had some _very_ interesting questions for his Aunt Petunia.

Marzio smirked. "Oh, but it does, _caro._ You see, my _nonna_ was a gypsy with a rare gift of sight. She told me about the little lioness's baby Sky with the greenest eyes ever seen. My little blossom was wonderful; she would've been great with us. But _you_ , you are even _better_. Because you are a Sky and you are _mine_."

Harry was sitting on the admittedly sinfully comfortable couch, his brain frozen with disbelief as he tried to compute yet impossibility in his life. Dumbledore believing a prophecy, he could believe, but that Lily, his own _mother_ , sold him out, however unintentionally, to some dubious, similarly prophecy-obsessed hack for the safety of her family when she was barely _seven_ , was a little hard to swallow.

"Then why didn't her sister say anything? And what do you mean, I am a sky?" _'Concentrate'_ , Harry told himself. ' _Concentrate, get as much info as you can and then hightail out of the nuthouse.'_

Marzio's eyebrows rose up. "She didn't? That's strange, considering she was our witness." Harry shot him an incredulous look. Did the man really rope in a… eight year old to witness that absurd pledge and then expect that his Aunt, who loathed everything and anything that was unnatural and freakish to tell her equally freakish nephew that he was apparently used as a bargain chip when he hadn't been even born yet? Judging by the man's face, yes, he did.

Groaning, Harry hid his face in the palms, feeling his cheeks burn with mortification with the second-hand embarrassment at the crazy bunch that was his family. He exhaled. "Right. What about me being a sky?" He flinched when the man's hand touched the back of his head, gently turning his head to Marzio. Those deep-set eyes were even more unnerving when being seen close.

"If you hadn't known it up until now, then it's not important. What's important, _caro,_ is that you are here now and you are mine." The man breathed out, his face nearing to Harry's in a clear attempt to kiss him.

His eyes widening, Harry hurriedly pushed him away, causing the man's eyes to narrow with anger.

"No!" Harry blurted out, his own eyes wide and panicked. He didn't know why, but he just knew that he didn't want whatever Marzio wanted to do to him.

"And who are you to say _'no'_ to me, boy?" All of Marzio's warmth completely vanished out of the man's demeanor as if it wasn't ever there to begin with, and suddenly, Harry was reminded of the cross of Uncle Vernon and Snape… but much, much more dangerous. "Whether you like it or not, I _own_ you, and you have no say in ordering _me_ , of all people what I should or shouldn't do with your person."

An iron hand clasped around his wrist, causing Harry to glare at the bastard while he clenched his teeth to not emit a sound.

"A no is still a no." He bit out, only for his chin to be grabbed into a painful hold and those soulless eyes bore into his own green, full of darkness and malice.

Harry glared back.

The glare earned him a slap, the heavy ring on the man's hand making a raw scrape across the skin of his cheek.

So much about Italian hospitality.

* * *

Kiritsugu was sitting in a corner of an easily overlooked pub. The clientele wasn't the most reputable one, but he didn't expect them to be, what with it being one of those legal mouths to the underworld, serving as a hub for all manner of _interesting_ people.

The young man's eyes were hooded as he leaned back against his chair, obviously waiting for someone, and more than one hooker was dissuaded by his cold eyes. Despite him being a relative stranger on the scene, he was given a small berth, precisely because he was an unknown. Even among the killers and everyday mafia thugs, there was just something extra in Kiritsugu's demeanor that marked him as someone not to be messed with.

"Mu. I never expected _you_ of all people would need my services." A hooded person slid in front of him, inclining their head shortly. Kiritsugu returned the greetings, uncaring of his companion's attire. If nobody else noticed it, then it wasn't his business either.

"If needs must." His answer was just as short. It was a lucky coincidence that particular informant was in the Florence right now, because Kiritsugu was very aware of their habit of making their clients pay through the nose for their services. The only reason Kiritsugu had a good standing with them was because he once saved them out of a very sticky situation. Until now, Kiritsugu didn't use their services - it wasn't needed, and besides, the informant didn't deal with Kiritsugu's side of people, though that didn't mean they didn't have information on them.

(Because more info, less danger and more money to be made.)

The informant tilted their head. Wordlessly, Kiritsugu pushed toward them a tall cup filled with pinkish-white liquid. The informant paused before their fingers clutched the cup and their lips were placed on the straw. A small slurp almost lost itself in the overall noise of the club, but it didn't escape Kiritsugu's sharp senses that the noise in question was slightly muffled, undoubtedly a work of their illusions.

"So what do you want?" Another small slurp made with relish followed the question.

"My friend was abducted by a couple of thugs. Gavilano. I need everything you got on him."

If Kiritsugu could have seen the informant's eyebrows, they would definitely be raised in askance. Instead, their lips tightened around the straw just a fraction more.

"Huh. Definitely a tall order. "The slender chin tilted forward, like that of a curious cat. "Everything?"

Kiritsugu nodded sharply as he leaned forward, interlacing his fingers in front of his mouth as his dark, abyss-like eyes zeroed onto the face hidden under the hood, causing the hood's owner to unintentionally back away.

"I want to see the bastard and everything he owns burn in the deepest, darkest pits of hell _yesterday_." Kiritsugu's cold, emotionless voice chilled the informant to their very bones.

Suddenly they were very glad that they never, ever pissed off the young man to the extent one particular imbecile just did.

"Mu. Leave me their bank accounts and passwords and you can have the info in an hour."

If anyone would've seen Kiritsugu's slow, dark smile at that particular moment they would unanimously agree it was a smile fit to send the devil running back to its mommy.

* * *

Standing beside the desk in the ancient library and talking with the old librarian, Kirei frowned. Something was not right. He clutched his chest, causing Father Adriano look at him with concern in his old, wizened eyes. The quirky librarian was one of the people that genuinely liked Kirei for some reason, and the wizened monk didn't like to see one of his favorite pupils in pain, judging by the youth's grasp of the cloth on his chest.

"Son, are you alright?" The old librarian, almost comically small when compared to Kirei's height made a step to him to stabilize the young priest, his concern mounting at Kirei's unintentional frown.

"Thank you for your concern, Father. I-I am not alright." Kirei paused, seemingly to debate with himself how much could he tell the man. "But I will get better, I promise."

Father Adriano clucked like a mother hen as he patted the younger priest's shoulder. "That won't do, lad. You were always hearty and hale as a horse - and hope you haven't done any of your silly stunts on your mission, have you?" He aimed a suspicious glare at the younger, only to blink when Kirei shook his head. "Last I've been on such mission was half a year ago. If I caught anything it would've shown long time ago – " Dark brown eyes widened with shock as he comprehended something that still eluded the old priest. "Father Adriano, I am sorry to cut our talk short, but could you forward any information you find to Vatican, please? I will of course contact you when I get there, but I really have to go now. Excuse me." Hurriedly, Kirei packed the gathered notes and notebook and pen into a small, unassuming bag before picking it up and bolting out of the room, leaving behind the old priest who shook his head with exasperation.

"Youth these day, they always have to hurry somewhere." Father Adriano grumbled, before shuffling to the window and opening it.

"AT LEAST GO TO FATHER ALESSANDRO FOR YOUR HEALTH CHECK, YOU YOUNG IDIOT!" He hollered out, scaring the crap of the passerby's below, only for Kirei to distractedly wave him away before he jumped across the railing and down on the lower level of the staircase, nearly giving the two novices ascending the stairway here at least two heart attacks each in the process. Disregarding them, Kirei bolted forward, running across the park, not even registering the scandalized and offended looks of the shocked officials and visitors given his person.

Shaking his head with exasperation at his younger colleague's antics, Father Adriano closed the window.

"Harrumph. He doesn't even need a doctor, I reckon. "He grumbled to himself grouchily. "If the lad were anyone else I would've thought that he was late for a rendezvous with his dame."

* * *

Rosita had been working in the Elysium since she had been just a tiny brat. Even if she was just a teen, she had seen many horrors that wouldn't look out of place in the medieval time. She had been sold to the Master by her cousin, who needed money for her little daughter at a time, and the food was scarce enough that winter that Rosita had agreed to be sold, just to save the tiny baby that had yet to be named at the time.

She didn't know what happened to Calla and her baby, but that didn't matter. Rosita had much to do if she wanted to survive in the cesspit that was the stronghold of Freccia for as long as possible. She learned fast and well the rules of the household. Keep silent, don't contradict the orders and above all, obey the superiors, even to your detriment. (The last one happened more often than not, but as long as they survived from day to day…)

She wasn't the most beautiful, and she thanked Holy Virgin Mary every time for this mercy. Beautiful people as servants didn't last long in this den of misery.

She was now hurrying to the guest wing, told to tend to the Master Marzio's newest guest. Prepared as always, she had with herself a basin with lukewarm water, a few of sanitized towels and a tiny vial full of powder which, mixed with water, could be a good healing ointment. _Nonna_ Rica had taught Rosita well, and the plain brown-eyed girl used her knowledge of herbs and tinctures many times to ease the suffering of her fellow prisoners.

Because that was what they were, no matter if they were servants or guests. Prisoners of _Freccia_ were rarely allowed the freedom of going out of the house never mind the free will to go anywhere they pleased.

When she reached the designed room, she gently knocked on the door. Pausing for a moment, she then entered the lavish room, her eyes expertly cataloguing the damage on the unconscious body curled on top of the covers of the opulent bed. It was a male, with black hair and Caucasian lines of face. Small, slender, almost on the verge of being undernourished, even if his clothes were of a good make. Unconscious too, this would make Rosita's job both easier and harder.

Setting the small basing on the nearby table, she then dipped the edge of the towels into the basin, allowing it to soak the liquid before gently wringing out leaving the bare traces of the moisture clinging to the linen. She then approached the unconscious male, reaching out to the already swollen face to gently clean away the vestiges of blood splashed on the pale skin –

-only for her hand to be grabbed into an iron hold, and previously closed eyelids were now open, revealing emerald green eyes that glared at her with the blaze of thousand mini suns, all zeroed on her person, like some kind of -

 _"D-D-Diavolo! Oh Maria, Jesus e Guiseppo, salvami!"_ Rosita screeched as she jumped back, nearly dislodging the young man's arm from its shoulder socket with the force of her move.

 _"Stai zitto_ , woman!" The subject of her hear snarled at her, those devil-green eyes narrowing at the girl, fairly nailing her to her place with the force of the glare alone. "For heaven's sake, you're getting my fucking headache worse than it already is!" And as if to prove his statement, he grabbed his head, hissing with pain at the jerky movement.

Brown eyes still wide, Rosita hesitated. But surely no devil would be showing pain like this person, and he was obviously a foreigner, too.

So she swallowed her terror down and opened her mouth.

 _"S-Scusi, signore, che – "_ She flinched under his gaze, but bravely pointed to the basin.

The young man – no, teen's eyes followed her motion and they brightened. _"Si._ Yes, please." Despite his horrifically swollen face, he beamed at her with such gratitude that Rosita's heart couldn't help but go out to the poor dear, especially when he let go of her wrist with almost sheepish expression.

* * *

Harry couldn't help but wince when he tried to move. Marzio wasn't exactly gentle with his chosen method of persuasion, especially when Harry had defied his advances even further. He got a feeling the man just wasn't used to be told no. Rosita's balm helped to an extent, but there were still aches and pains, pronounced further by his recovering body. There hadn't been any part of it not aching - not like _Cruciatus_ curse, but with deep, relentlessly unsettling pangs running from one nerve to another in a demented dance of agony. He gingerly touched his cheek when Marzio's ring scratched him, grimacing at the shallow but still quite stinging wound sitting there.

The man had a way with his fists, no doubt. Harry glared at the door, sorely wishing to set the bastard on fire. Whatever it was he needed Harry for, didn't bade well for the young wizard, especially if that was connected to that sky business. Which Harry still didn't know about, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do something with magic… or something similar. It was strange for the man to place so much faith in a single prophecy, but Harry already resolved that whatever the bastard tried to get out of him, Harry wouldn't give him, come hell or high water.

Gently he settled back on a sinfully comfortable bed. He still couldn't see the details, courtesy of his missing glasses, but judging by the sun it was a late morning slowly nearing the noon. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to shut his eyes to get some rest.

 _'I wonder how Kirei, Kuzuki and Kiritsugu are doing. They must be out of their minds with worry about me.'_ This was his last thought before he drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

Ciro frowned. When their leader returned to their haunt, he was anything but pleased. Instead, the younger boy was fit to explode with rage. And knowing the boy that was a real and worrying possibility.

 _"Cos'è successo?"_ The taller, lankier boy asked, following the dark-haired boy leisurely, more out of the curiosity than any real aim to calm the little ball of rage that was Xanxus.

It was a well-known fact in their little group that when Xanxus was in rage, the best course of action was either to let their leader loose the steam by himself or call Maria as their mediator. The tiny slip of a girl was the only one Xanxus reacted to with a modicum of civility even when he was in a towering fury. Any other stupid enough idiots - especially older brats - were recipients of an almost blood red glare, painful beating and a tirade scorching enough to be compared to sun.

There was a reason that Xanxus, despite him being far younger than most of the kids in his gang of stray cats was a leader, and not someone older. Xanxus had brains, wit and power to go along the two, and if that didn't help, the sheer force of his personality was such that anyone who met him couldn't help but either like him or reluctantly acknowledge him, despite any antipathy coloring their opinions. Of course, Xanxus didn't see himself as a leader, lone wolf as he was most of the time, but that didn't mean he wasn't a leader to them any less.

"That fucking _idiota_ – " Xanxus' words were a garbled mess of fury and helplessness. "He shouldn't have bargained himself for me!" He finally burst out, causing Ciro to frown.

Grabbing Xanxus by his shoulder - yes, a suicidal move, but Ciro disregarded his hard-earned instincts howling at him to _let the fuck go right this moment_ and turned their mess of a leader around to face him.

A single dark, stern eye looked down at the smaller kid while Ciro placed his other hand to the brat's other shoulder and kept it here while he roughly shook the boy, causing him to blink with shock at his action.

 _"Bast-tardo,_ what are you - !" Xanxus spat out, trying to twist from his hold, but Ciro was unmovable. Working as a dock brat caused him to be made out of a sterner stuff than most of the kids here.

"I am shaking the stupid out of you." Ciro snapped back. "Calm the fuck _down_ and tell me what happened. Coherently!" He barked at his pint-sized leader who opened his mouth but snapped it shut again at Ciro's sharp reminder. The pair glared at each other for a few tense moments before Xanxus forcefully wrenched himself out of Ciro's hold, with the older boy letting him go.

"Do that again and I _will_ find a way to fry you." He growled at Ciro, who eyed him, unimpressed with the threat, real as it was. Because when Xanxus wanted to do something, there wasn't anything in heaven or hell strong - or stupid enough to bar his way and deal with the consequences.

"You are welcome to try." Ciro snarked back, bopping him on the nose, causing Xanxus to snap at his finger like a rabid dog, teeth flashing but ultimately missing the offending digit. "Now, what happened?"

Xanxus was silent for a moment before he sighed and motioned Ciro to follow him outside, away from the prying eyes and curious ears. Mutely, Ciro followed him, to the abandoned ditch the gang had repaired the best they could for rainy days and such. It still smelled with the traces of motor oil and old, dusty things, inhabited as it was with some bean bags that surely saw better times once upon this one, but were still in use, carelessly strew around a low-sitting cheap table whose varnish has disappeared and instead bore the beauty marks in the shape of random scratches, rude words in different styles and pens with a couple of questionable stains that may or may have not been caused by an overenthusiastic use of a bleach or some other dubious substance .

Xanxus plopped bonelessly on the ancient bean bag, with Ciro following him with more grace. After a moment of silence, Xanxus spoke, his gaze far away.

"You know I wasn't as often at our haunts last week?" His voice was quiet, and dare Ciro say, almost sad.

"Yeah. What gives? You found a girl?" Ciro couldn't help but tease, only to be met with a half-hearted glare.

"It wasn't a girl and you know it! It was just…" Xanxus bit his lip as he played with the frayed edges of the bag in an attempt to distract himself. "That _turista_ Maria had lured in with her _gattina_ play for that old fuck Pedro – well, he interested me. "He shrugged as if that wasn't anything big. "Maria was yapping about him and how kind he was and I had to check because no one was that good and not have hiding something."

Ciro blinked. "You said that he bargained himself for you," He whispered with a dawning understanding. "Xanxus, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Those uniquely colored eyes glared at him. "Why do you always suspect that _I_ had to do fucking anything with it?" Xanxus growled at him, causing Ciro to raise his arms in a placating gesture. "You mean, you _aren't?_ " Ciro asked, one eyebrow lifted mockingly before he became serious.

No need for Xanxus to throttle him to early death, after all.

"Not this time." Xanxus seethed, visibly holding himself back from using violence. "This time, I was ambushed by a couple of _bastardi_ , kicked around and then they dragged me off to the square - you know, the one near the blue _caffeteria_ that makes that shitty espresso like they used the rat piss for it – where the rest of them stopped the idiot and gave him an ultimatum to either come with them or I get it." Ciro's eyes widened with horror the longer the younger of the two was talking.

"Fuck, that's some serious shit. Do you know who they were?" Ciro asked hurriedly while once again visually checking Xanxus for any injuries, but only saw the clean white bandages around his body.

Xanxus shrugged. "The lead fucker said they were working for someone called Gavilano." Sharp reddish brown eyes looked at Ciro, who at the moment looked like he would throw up. "You know something." Xanxus deduced before glaring at him. "Tell me."

Ciro swallowed. It was a direct order, but for that kid to go against that monster…He closed his eyes. _"Il cielo abbia pietà_ … Kid, it would be better to leave this one alone. And this time, listen to me, seriously. This is some heavy shit and you could end dead if you poke your nose where it's obviously not wanted." He felt sick with worry.

Xanxus stilled. It was, Ciro saw, the calm before the storm and the older boy felt helpless in doing anything against it.

"Tell me." Xanxus voice was deathly calm. "I will be the judge of it."

Ciro grimaced. Rubbing his nose bridge and cursing his inability to just say no to the kids, he sighed. "Fine. I will tell you, but only if you promise me to keep far away from those people." He only got arched eyebrows for his trouble and he reminded himself - one time too many – just why was illegal to throttle that little shit to death.

Because Xanxus was obviously too stupid to live without any high-strung conflict playing a background tune in his life.

"Fine." He bit out, glaring. "Be it on your foolish head, then. What do you know about Freccia?"

* * *

Xanxus' head spun with all the data Ciro had told him about his newest enemy.

 _Mafia._ One of the oldest groups, and undoubtedly among those still holding to the old way of doing things. Ciro's younger brother had been drafted into thrice cursed thing, courtesy of his father's gambling debts and there was nothing that would indicate about him still being alive. Whoever was led to the Elysium, didn't return. Which could only meant two things: they were either dead or working for the _famiglia_ in question until they were, forbidden any contact with their former lives, thus Freccia taking in children, young enough to mold in their own view, their own soulless weapons in the human shape.

 _Polizia_ didn't have any damned leg to stand on regarding the proofs about their existence. They were like wraiths - existing, here, even walking among people, but untouchable by both the civilian and mafia laws. They were stories, legends, if you will, for parents to scare their children if they were naughty enough - _if_ _you will make trouble, then Freccia will come and take you away -_ yet on the other side, they were all too real boogeymen, made out of flesh and blood, ready willing and able to descend on those unfortunate enough that attracted the attention of their erstwhile leader, _signore_ Gavilano.

And for some reason this stupid tourist of Xanxus' attracted the bastard's attention to his person.

Closing his eyes, Xanxus mentally reeled off all the curse words in all the languages he had known and even invented a couple of new ones for a good measure.

Because sure enough at the end of this particular adventure Xanxus's hair would be white from saving that stupid, softhearted fool's ass as sure as the sun was setting on the West.

Snapping his eyes open, he sprang to his feet, causing Ciro to yelp with surprise, his single eye wide with shock at Xanxus' sudden influx of energy.

"H-Hey, where are you going!?"

Xanxus eyed his second-in-command and in that moment Ciro intimately knew just how the mice trapped in a lion's paw felt.

"To save that dumbass. And _you_ – "The young boy imperiously pointed at him, nearly giving Ciro a heart attack in process "Will be going with me."

Mentally, Ciro whimpered.

Why did he always have to throw his lot in with the crazy ones!?

* * *

Kiritsugu clutched at his chest. It was like having a heart attack, yet it wasn't - more like a phantom pain that seemed to squeeze his chest in a vice grip yet still allowed him to breath. The pain came in waves - sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker but ever present ever since Harry had been taken from them. His eyes flicking to Kirei, he saw the priest subtly flinch when they were bent over the plans of the building they intended to infiltrate. Elysium was a veritable fortress, much to Kiritsugu's ire, but at least they got the blueprints of the damn thing, and considering who the informant was, Kiritsugu didn't have any doubts that they were right ones.

But what concerned him was that the pain was steadily becoming stronger which didn't bode well for them. He forced himself not to think in what state they will find Harry - it was bad enough when Kiritsugu had seen him in the church, but with that Marzio bastard on Harry's case, Kiritsugu couldn't be anything but reluctantly pessimistic of the outcome.

Steeling himself and sharpening his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate on finding the weak points of the structure, even if his eyes were tired from constant labor under the artificial light of the lamp.

He was Emiya Kiritsugu. He was _the_ Magus Killer. And no secret organization, Mafia or otherwise, will keep him away from Harry if he had any say in it.

Kirei pointed at something on the map, causing his attention to divert to it and zero on it like it was the single most important thing in the universe.

Correction. No one would keep them away from Harry, not now, not ever. Period.

Perched on Kuzuki's shoulder - the gray-eyed assassin was currently checking and rechecking his weapons, looking for imperfection and dull edges of the blades though he already knew he would find none - Hedwig hooted softly in agreement, her eyes glinting in the light, a silent predator in waiting.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters. I only own the topsy-turvy world in which I've thrown them.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Another chapter bites the dust. Those who correctly guessed the miser with which Kiritsugu spoke was Viper, congratulations. Not that I tried hard to conceal them, but it was still fun writing. Also in regards with previous chapter: _**Lost-Lovegood**_ kindly informed me that the word _gypsy_ is a slur to Romani people, especially because it rouses up some very nasty stereotypes. So if you really have to talk about people who are usually labelled with G-word, then I implore you to use Romani. They are people with very rich culture and history, and they deserve to be treated as such. While I can't for the sake of the story change the chapter before this one, I changed some details in the story to correct this unintentional oversight of mine. So onward to the rescue!

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, violence, mention of non-consensual sexual acts, use of drugs, many POV's and overall the dark and dirty reality of life in mafia. Not beta-read.

* * *

 _Cielo._ If, after this whole misery of an affair, Harry would hear this sole word one more time, he swore he would do something drastic.

Sky. His body ached. Marzio definitely wasn't gentle with him, considering that his body ached all over, he hissed with pained anger when he tried to move, only for his wrists sending the bolts of agony down his arms.

To put in simply, Harry was strung up like a fish, with his hands in the manacles above his head, while the tips of his feet barely brushed the cold, cold floor. His previously pristine clothes hang off his frame in in bloodied rags, courtesy of Marzio's unhealthy obsession with whips. Harry clenched his teeth with fury. The fucking thing practically sliced in the skin with almost surgical precision, leaving behind the sliced up feeling and the burn of the hit on the raw wound made by the simple, yet efficient torture device. Harry still smelled the scent of leather polish, though he was fairly certain there had to be some kind of metal woven in - for all of its perceived fragility, the thing was damned heavier than it seemed to be.

And most importantly, being hit with it hurt like fucking hell.

It was kind of a perverse, being hung from the ceiling of a posh, almost decadent room, with the blank-faced servant working around him like he was some kind of a strange sculpture. It was not the same one than before - this one had blank blue eyes and seemed to be the same age than Harry. The maid came in, armed with mop and a bucket of scented water and set to wiping the floor which was dirtied with the flecks of his blood.

Harry tried to wiggle a bit, to ease the feeling in his shoulders. Despite his still frighteningly low weight, his shoulders and upper back were burning with the effort of keeping his body upright, and aside the pain in his wrists, his fingers were swollen and he lost the feeling in them. The inside of his mouth felt like moldy cotton and both his throat and tongue were swollen.

He was thirsty. Licking his lips awkwardly, he could feel they were chapped to the point of feeling cracked. He was cold and hot and he had to suffer through the humiliation of his bladder emptying itself because he couldn't hold it in anymore. The only saving grace was that the bastard was absent at the moment -. Harry didn't want Marzio get any other weird ideas from that incident. It was bad enough the man was watching him like some kind of a starved wolf - actually, that was an insult to wolves everywhere - and he didn't even bother to hide his physical enjoyment of both Harry's misery and position.

Mentally, Harry shuddered. He wasn't very tactile person by his nature, and Mrs. Weasley's hugs were always something to endure. Even with his friends, he tried to avoid the physical contact as much as he could get away with (because every time someone touched him by their own volition, something bad happened), and it was a miracle that he even allowed the three assassins any liberties to his person at all.

( _But they were safe_ , something within whispered. _They were his and safe and Harry trusted them -_ )

Marzio, on the other hand, Harry had been willing to give him a benefit of doubt, but it seemed that his initial assessment of the man was sadly proven right.

The man was a mix of Voldemort and Dumbledore, all kind and gentlemanly up until the moment someone rejected him. Because then, the bad side of him came out to play.

Marzio, Harry found out, didn't have Flames - in fact, he was born as Flameless, and very resentful of that little fact.

Harry didn't understand. _Flames? Flameless?_ What was the man babbling about? Harry had toyed with the notion that maybe Marzio meant magic, but Harry didn't know, nor did he use any magic that could be likened to flames in any way, shape or form.

The only time he could remember, it was when Fawkes had offered him a lift out of the Chamber of Secret and –

Wait. Rewind.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry struggled to remember.

There was something else.

\- a flash of orange covering his eyes, driving away the _cold, cold cold –_

\- that glimpse of colors, his orange entangling with the others of his friends - but surely that was all they were - _colors_ \- they were not in flame shape….

… but Harry got a sinking feeling that for Marzio, the shape wouldn't be important. The man was already so far gone that he promised that his next session with Harry would be very _enjoyable._

It didn't take a genius to conclude that the enjoyment would be reserved for one person only, and it wouldn't be Harry.

Closing his eyes, Harry could almost feel them, imagine those colors cuddling against his own, trying to give it support and warmth, as much as they could.

He choked out a laugh, not even caring he startled the emotionless maid who was now switching the bed sheets, apparently in preparation for the travesty that would happen this evening.

Oh, those fools. And he was a fool, foolish fool to want to have them along his side.

Exhaling a tremulous sigh, he slumped, ignoring the blazing agony streaking down his arms and spine along with it lovingly coil across his back.

But at least, they were safe.

* * *

Xanxus was always a possessive little shit. That was an undisputable fact. When he decided that something was his, it was his, and the little brat fought for it tooth and nail to keep it as such.

Being born out of a wedlock and a son of a whore, the life's bitter lessons hit home all too often for the ferocious dark-haired six years old. He learned to survive. He learned that might makes right in the little corner of the world he lived. He learned how to run, how to hide, how to steal and how to keep his presence the fuck down to be unnoticeable by the trashes sick enough to have a bright idea to use him for their own ends.

(Most of time it didn't end well for them.)

He learned how to scavenge for food, how to weather through the winters. He learned to read and write by trial and error - it was a necessity, and even if Xanxus had to suffer through the preaching of old _prete_ Paolo about God and Jesus and the sins and that people were, in fact, dirty from their births - Xanxus didn't dispute the last fact, but the first two, he did very much. As for sins, he didn't care. That aside, old man Paolo taught the orphans the basics and Xanxus quickly saw the advantage of knowing how to read and write those squiggly lines. While writing was something he was still extremely atrocious at (fuck you, hand-eye coordination, fuck you very much,), his reading was much better, even if at times, he still struggled with it.

As a street brat, one of the hundreds stalking like starved young cats the streets of Florence, waiting to grown into an older body and for the bleak future to come and claim him – _he was just a whore's kid, stupid bastardo, he was a blight on the good, honest folk who worked for their bread and butter every day, and just wait, when those like him grow up, they become criminals without an exception –_

-but there was one stupid idiot who dared to disregard him, disregard that idiotic attack of Xanxus' on his person and offer him _gelato_ and ask for nothing but Xanxus' company which evolved in small lessons in Italian somehow, and how did _that_ happen?

Xanxus was a stray cat, knowing to not trust anybody, but this _turista_ , with his stupid glasses and stupid smiles and stupid kindness listened to him, even when Xanxus was ornery enough to speak only in Italian, and then butcher the language so bad Xanxus' ears were practically bleeding just from suffering through the mispronunciation of the words – _he was doing the rest of the world a community service, teaching that idiota how to speak Italiano properly, really_ -

"You could be a teacher."

When was the last time someone told him that he could be something more than a gangster or murderer or thief?

There wasn't one.

Not until Harry.

Harry was stupid, to trust him and to see him more than he was. But it was nice, Xanxus supposed, to be viewed like such, even if only for a moment.

(Noogies, while they weren't nice, they could be suffered through and later cursed out while the noogie-giver in question chuckled with amusement at Xanxus' fuming as the little boy tried to get his nest of messy hair in some semblance of order but only making it worse, thus unintentionally making them see look like a pair of brothers, with the younger glaring and cussing out the amused elder.)

And come hell or high water, Xanxus would find those trashes who took Harry and make them _pay._

* * *

Giuliano was a fairly reliable man. One had to be, to survive in such a cut-throat famiglia like Freccia for almost 45 years. In those years, Giuliano had seen many things that would chill the ordinary mortal to their very bones, be that because they were so horrifying or so atrocious or even combination of the both. For him, morals were just a word, only to be used when he visited the Church at Sundays when he bowed his head in front of the Holiest, an ordinary, balding man with sallow face and the expression of a perpetual hangdog, the courtesy of many a night he was up to guard the Elysium.

As a Head of security, he was responsible that the Elysium was protected - not so much that the civilians would be suspicious, but enough that anybody who would be foolish enough to try and sneak into the building would be faced with an impenetrable fortress, no matter the firepower.

Because Freccia wasn't one of the really big fishes, the cases of incidents were so few Giuliano could count them on the fingers of one hand. The most excitement he could get out of his position was when some particularly stubborn 'guest' or servant thought themselves clever enough to outwit the old Giulio and break out of the Elysium.

Elysium wasn't called like it was for nothing. If the masters of the house didn't want someone to get out of the house, then it was a simple matter of a fact - they didn't.

"Hey, Juliet! Won't you join in the fun?" Sergio asked him, his rough voice grunting as he jerked with his hips, choking the teenage girl that served him, and bellowing with laugh at her plight as he grabbed her hair, making her emit a pitiful whimper of pain. Giuliano glared at him with disapproval of his action but he didn't do anything to stop the manhandling of the girl. It was a regular scene, repeating day in and day out, and the only thing that changed was the color of the girls' hair and how broken in they were. Giulio ran an experienced eye across her form, and gave her two days before Sergio broke her completely.

It was some kind of a game for Giuliano now, to guess how long would Sergio's little toys last under the man. A sick game, perhaps, but one had to take amusement from somewhere when they were stuck with such a boring post like this one.

Sergio was a tall, bear-like man of simple tastes and crude words. His name wasn't Sergio - Giulio didn't know where did Master Marzio dragged the man from, but they were like oil and water. "For the last time, no." Giulio leaned back into his chair, looking at the hall monitors. "And just how many times do I have to tell you don't call me that atrocious name?" He snapped out, semi-annoyed.

He was rewarded with filthy leer. "Until you prove me wrong, _Ju-Li-Et_. Man, your dick is really wasted on you if you don't know how to use it. "The bear-like man sneered. " It's not like anything would happen, and you still insist of being a priss instead of enjoying a li-ttle fun with a pretty thing or two." He grunted, his voice becoming tighter as his peak came closer.

Giuliano scoffed. "No thank you. I don't want to get your dirty germs. Besides, we are getting two new recruits."

With a final grunt, Sergio unloaded into the girl's mouth and then, he relaxed. "Hn-h. Fresh meat?" Leering, he showed the girl away from his crotch with a tip of his foot. "You sly fox, you. But the birds are still the best." Mutely, the girl hunched into herself as she scampered away, her head hanging low, not even bothering to straighten out her clothes.

Giuliano glared at him, but didn't deny the teasing, long used to Sergio's crude humor.

The two were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter!" Giuliano snapped, prompting the door to open, revealing the safeguard with the two unknown men behind him.

"Sir, new recruits." The safeguard saluted before discreetly removing himself out of the room, letting the duo proceed forward, their eyes blank of feelings, like any recruits previous of them.

Giuliano eyed them critically. The smaller, messy-haired one in the cloak wasn't much to work with - what did he think he was a hero of justice or something?

But the other one… Giuliano paused. Tall, built like a tank, wide shoulders, slender hips and good face, all wrapped in a sinfully dark package that highlighted the man's attributes.

Giuliano had to swallow in order not to drool.

 _Wow._

This was the only thing in his mind.

This was one hell of gift that he wouldn't mind to unwrap.

Belatedly, he heard Sergio snicker, no doubt the asshole knew what was Giuliano thinking. The head of security never made secret of his proclivities, even if he was a bit more discreet in him affairs than the bearlike idiot.

"Uh- Welcome to Freccia." He had to cough to gather his suddenly scattered mind as he tried to don on his most welcoming smile, only for his heart to sink a little at the man's seemingly implacable face. He forced himself to straighten out and keep a professional demeanor. First impressions were important, after all. "I am Giuliano Sforza and I am the Head of security here. And you are?"

"Kerry Potter." The cloak-wearing one said, earning Giuliano's sharp glare for his efforts. Giuliano didn't care for that brat - what he cared for, was the name of this beautiful young man in front of him.

"Kirei." Giuliano smiled at the latter one. "Wonderful. Come with me, I will show you the ropes."

He saw Kirei nod, and he had to suppress a smile and his anticipation. Just a little more, and this pretty boy will be all his.

With that in mind, he strode forward, intent on leading the young man through the mansion to his personal quarters, where the education will really begin.

* * *

It was almost laughably easy to get into the so-called fortress. A shadow sneaked across the roofs, its footsteps silent and sure, the backpack slinging across its back quietly, already more than half empty. The shadow had been here for an hour already, and so far, no one noticed anything wrong with their surroundings or that there was one more person which definitely shouldn't have been where it was. Not that the shadow took chances - whenever a guard went past, it hid in its surroundings so that it seemingly blended into space, not even an occasional dog noticing it, even if it was passing but a few steps away from them.

They just twitched, inhaled the night air and went their way.

Blank eyes looked up to the higher levels. The basement and ground level were already packed, and it was time to equip the other three. The shadow stilled when a familiar scent floated past its nose.

 _Blood._ And much of it…along with a softer, gentler scent. The scent of _home._

The shadow tensed, bristling with rage, before dipping into the darkness once again.

* * *

Swirling a ruby red liquid in an elegant flute, Marzio scoffed.

He still remembered his _nonna_ 's words.

 _'Don't chain the little sky, darling.'_ The old, proud woman told him when she was laying on her deathbed. Marzio's _nonna_ always insisted that she was of a noble lineage, that her line was of a famous Greek priestess, the _sybil_ of Erythraea, who prophesized that the Greeks would win the Trojan War and that Homer would write falsehoods about it. The priestess' name was lost to the mists of time, but Marzio's _nonna_ insisted that despite her humble way of living, the blood bred true.

In rare moments of bitterness, Marzio wondered why didn't she make better living for herself if her own predictions were so very accurate. But _nonna_ lived like she did - with minimum comforts and free with her people wandering around from the place to place.

Marzio still remembered her sparkling dark eyes and long white mane, gathered in an impressive crown on top of her head in the fashion of her foremothers, clad in vividly colored silky garments with few pieces made of gold adorning her wrists and neck. Once upon a time, she was a beauty, thus prompting Marzio's _nonno_ to take her for his woman. Even when she got old, _nonna_ still held her head high, laughed out loud and cowed even the strongest man into submission with but a glare.

Her only weak point was Marzio, she wanted all the best for her little darling, the only child of her daughter, the iris of her eye.

(A daughter who died while birthing Marzio. She was attacked, suffered the knife wounds, and both the loss of her blood along with the stress of premature birth was too much for her. )

(Before her, Freccia was already a dark place, but after her death, everything broke apart, having lost their precious light.)

Thus, she spoke the words of _piccola_ _leonessa,_ the one who could bring fortune to Freccia…and a little boy believed her.

Seven years later, the vivacious woman was laying on her death bed, so very old, and Marzio holding her hand by her request.

Toothless mouth curving into a gentle smile, semi-blind eyes sliding into an affectionate stare - Marzio didn't know how much did _nonna_ see him, but she always saw him when it was important, but this time, her sight went into and past him, leaving him unnerved and restless.

 _"Chains can never hold it."_ Her smile was oh so gentle and dare Marzio say, pitying, as if she already knew that he would do the exact opposite what she asked him to.

Shaking his head, Marzio blinked the fog of memories away from his mind.

"You were wrong, _nonna._ Chains _do_ hold it." He smirked smugly. "And they will hold it now and forever." Marzio licked his lips as he thought of the precious treasure in that special room. This Harry, he was a treat, with how wonderfully stubborn he was. It was a little bit frustrating, but Marzio was sure that with a little bit of proper discipline, the little Sky would be obedient to his requests, obeying and adoring him above all the others, making him, Marzio Gavilano, the sole focus of his universe.

Lifting the glass against the light, the blood red liquid within sparkled like priceless rubies.

He _so loved_ looking forward to breaking in that little morsel of a boy.

* * *

Following the scent of blood, the shadow quickly came to the window from whence the scent came. Catlike, the form sinuously twisted itself to fit between the bars of the window, which it carefully spread apart with an inhuman strength beforehand, just enough for the shadow to slink through.

Feet lightly slapping on the floor, the shadow eyed the space, before its eyes froze on the room's sole occupant still hanging from the chain off the ceiling, the dark head hunk in apparent unconsciousness.

It was like thunder and lightning roaring down its veins, causing it to suppress a choke of both sound and emotions deep in its throat. Whoever did that to him –

 _\- they were dead meat._

He forcibly pulled his emotions down, down to his core, deep down just like he had taught himself, detaching himself from them in process, if only slightly as he approached the unconscious form hanging from the manacles in the middle of the room, the cloying scent of iron wafting from the vivid crimson wounds criss-crossing the victim's back.

The form was almost rail thin, with some muscle padding the bones, but not enough to adequately cover the ribs or even spine, the red liquid lazily sluicing down the fragile looking back, which seemed more of a piece of meat, mercilessly mauled by some crazy animal than a body part at the time.

Gently, he approached and soon enough, his hands twisted the chain enough to cause the links to open under the pressure, and then, he gently caught the precious burden in his arms, causing the previously unconscious form stir and whimper with discomfort.

"Shhh. I am here now. It will be alright." He murmured as he placed the boy onto the bed, careful not to aggravate the wounds while he unconsciously concentrated on the Blue to give at least some of relief while he began to gently massage thin arms, trying to get the circulation and muscles here in order.

A small groan and then the messy haired head turned, while previously closed eyes opened slightly, revealing thin emerald green shade streaked with deep, burning orange and gold. Those eyes widened when they perceived just who the savior was, and then softened in an affectionate glance as the boy's mouth trembled when he tried to speak the words. Instead, he could barely mouth them out.

 _'You came.'_

Dark grey eyes looked at him, as the assassin nodded while still gently tending to the youth's upper limbs.

 _'Yes.'_

An arched eyebrow and a firm glare were enough of communication for those green and orange streaked eyes to close, half in exasperation and half in amusement while his body fell limp under the onslaught of soothing blue energy thrumming against his skin.

* * *

If there was any person, worthy of completely wasting an Origin Bullet on, Kiritsugu decided, it was that waste of a human being called Sergio. Within the space of half an hour, the irate Magus Killer was subjected to the stupid innuendos, filthy jokes and complete disregard of human will that would make any lesser - or at least more human being - go mad with how dirty and unfeeling they were.

That man, Sergio, would feel completely at home among that scum in the Clock Tower who gleefully experimented on live people just for their sick amusement, all in the name of discovering means to read the Akashic records.

Not that his supervisor - Giuliano or something - was any better. Kiritsugu almost pitied the priest, considering Sergio's comments about the old man's proclivities for the fresh meat of beautiful young guards.

Sergio also gleefully confided in him about 'sampling' the girls serving or living here, and offered to call one for him, which Kiritsugu coldly declined. He may be a monster in human guise, but even he had his limits to where he was prepared to go in order to reach his goals.

"Anything I should have known about Master's preferences?" He asked, careful to keep his tone emotionless and face as expressionless as possible - which wasn't hard, considering he had plenty of experience what with him being Magus Killer. The ache in his chest eased out, causing him to inadvertently take a deeper breath than usual and Sergio to look at him with suspicious frown on his thuggish face.

"Why would you need to know that?" The thug asked, his dark, cruel eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Kiritsugu stayed calm, returning the gaze with his own empty one. After a few tense moments, the man turned his head away, snorting with ill humor. "Didn't take ya for one to gun directly for Gavilano."

This got him Kiritsugu's most unimpressed glare, causing Sergio to hurriedly wave it away. "Nah, nothing too difficult. Any stragglers that manage to walk from the boss' ' _hospitality_ ' - Sergio lazily twitched his fingers in the air to show the dubiousness of the title "- Are usually dealt with old man Juliet here." He leered, dark eyes full of malice.

Kiritsugu only arched his eyebrows when he reached for a cigarette to smoke, his face an expression of nonchalance. "Really? Do we have any at the moment?" He inhaled the smoke slowly, as if he didn't have any care in the world, only to half at the click of the gun's safety being taken off, his eyes flicking up to the man sitting in the chair.

"You know, Ophelia," Sergio's voice was conversational, but his eyes were hard as he leveled the gun at Kiritsugu's head, while still sprawled across his chair.

"You're asking _way_ too many pointed questions for an ordinary grunt."

* * *

Meanwhile, Kirei was in a different sort of trouble. Giuliano was extremely helpful in showing off what the man deemed to be his territory, but in doing so, Kirei had been led into the bowels of the labyrinth that was Elysium, and worryingly enough, they had already passed the servants' quarters while advancing to the slightly better sectors where, Giuliano explained, were stationed guards.

They stepped in front of the door, unassuming, no different from any other door in the building, only for Giuliano to get out a key to unlock it.

"Sir?" Kirei asked, even though he already knew what the answer would be. The man smiled at him, that hangdog impression lifting up a little, while his eyes became darker and hooded in anticipation.

"Come in, Kirei, you said?" He smiled at the priest invitingly as he swept his hand in a beckoning gesture. "Usually I don't do this, but I feel that you have a potential. Come in, my boy."

 _Come in,_ said the spider to the fly.

 _Don't worry, it's just a short visit,_ he reassured it.

Kirei inclined his head. "I am honored, sir." He muttered while entering the room.

The room was simple - nothing ostentatious like in the hallways, just basic amenities, even if furniture had to be of a fairly high price, considering it's make. A small circular table with a chair and a couch with a wardrobe full of books on the side, while the opposite was covered with a tapestry depicting some great battle or another.

The man smiled again, harmless as you please. "Of course, of course. Now, young man, would you like something to drink? And do sit down; I expect we will be here for some time." He offered.

Kirei accepted gracefully, while his eyes still examined the walls, seemingly to satiate his curiosity. But instead, his glances were zeroed on the parts and pieces most likely - and also some unlikely ones - to hold the surveillance cameras.

Giuliano returned soon, with two glasses of water. Smiling an apologetic smile, he offered one to the Kirei, who accepted it with a murmur of thanks. "I am sorry, but I don't have anything else here than water. I hope you don't mind it, though." He watched like a hawk how the younger man inclined his head, and took a sip of water, only for that sip to prompt another.

And another one.

Giuliano licked his lips.

 _Soon._

In meantime, he offered a kind smile to the beautiful boy who would be soon wearing a lot less clothes than right now.

"Tell me something about yourself."

* * *

Kiritsugu stared at the dark, hungry muzzle of a gun.

Mentally, he was cursing up a storm.

"Sir?" He asked, seemingly confused at the turnout of the happenings.

Sergio didn't move. "You are not one of those wet-behind-the-ears punks." The previously slovenly-behaved man stated, his own eyes dark and dangerous. "I will ask once again. _Who are you?"_

 _Shit._

Kiritsugu's jaw clenched with anger.

This was not how everything was supposed to go.

Why wasn't his hypnotism working on this one? His brain worked hundred miles per minute, but short of using _Accel,_ he didn't see how he could stop the bastard from raising an alarm and ruin everything the three of them painstakingly put together in the short time frame they got.

And _fuck,_ he couldn't draw out any of his weapons either, not without the bastard having enough time - _if only by a little_ \- to hit the alarm.

He _really_ hated it when his opponents were competent.

He glared back, watching the finger on the trigger whiten with the pressure and anytime now –

\- only for the phone to ring out, causing the man to jerk and curse while reaching for the phone, but his eyes are still on Kiritsugu.

"Rodrigo? The fuck's happening?" He barked into the speaker, brows furrowing when he listened to the frantic report.

"…. mess…brat… flames…" Kiritsugu understood only a few of the words, courtesy of the phone's garbled static and the distance between the two, but he got a sinking feeling that he knew the culprit of the mess happening below.

And he didn't know whether to be grateful or slowly and painfully strangle the stupid brat to death.

* * *

Sergio disconnected the call, arching his eyebrows at visibly irritated newbie. The man was cold and Sergio still wasn't sure about him - there was something fishy about that _figlio de puta_ , and Sergio's intuition was rarely wrong about it.

The moment those two brats entered the room, Sergio felt the smaller one was trouble with capital T. And it wasn't only because he didn't know the man - but because of that unsettling feeling of being in close quarters with an already bound Element. It chafed at him - chafed like rough sandpaper roughly ribbing sensitive skin and leaving behind pain and bloody mess in spades.

Interestingly enough, that Potter Kerry - if that was even his real name - didn't behave as a bound Element. Either he was a very convincing faker or he truly didn't know that someone had snagged his ass. Or maybe – he had known it and came into the devil's den anyway.

Sergio exhaled an annoyed sigh. Kids these days, so very _stupid._ Sometimes he longed for those days when everything was clearer - some good old fashioned violence, bribes, threats and everything was fun and dandy. But now, in this beautiful new world with its technology and justice all the fun was sucked out.

Twirling his gun around his fingers in an expert move, he made a snap decision.

"You." He addressed the newbie. "You and Matteo will go deal with the _stupido ragazzo_." He paused. The kid's eyes were colder than tundra's stones. Harder, too.

The bear-like man fought the urge to shudder. "No funny business. Place a toe out of line, and the next thing to greet you will be a bullet between your eyes. Dismissed!" He snapped, causing the messy-haired _(-gut-twistingly sick-)_ brat nod and walk out of the room.

Only when the brat was out of the room, Sergio allowed himself to relax.

"Fuck, now I will need another blowjob to get things done." He mumbled sourly, the previous buzz almost completely dispersed from his mind.

* * *

The ache in Kirei's chest lessened, causing him to relax a little, much to Giuliano's pleasure.

The boy was really something to look at – tall, with strong and beautifully muscled body and Giuliano couldn't wait for the moment when the drug he had carefully put into the water began to work.

And judging by the youth's glazed out eyes that moment wasn't far.

He fought the urge to lick his lips. Instead, he forced himself to look concerned.

"Kirei? Are you feeling alright? " He asked, using the tone of a caring boss.

Kirei hummed, his head lolling slightly and previously alert eyes slid down to a half mast. He slumped further down into the couch that big body relaxing muscle by muscle, strand by strand, like a lion's after a full meal.

This time, Giuliano really licked his lips. "You must be very tired. Why don't you rest here?" He suggested, his voice soft and soothing. He held a breath when those eyes opened again, tracing his face for any sign of dishonesty before the eyelids slumped over those sweet brown eyes.

"Mm-hm." Kirei hummed. "Yes… Tired." He stretched, and involuntarily, Giuliano was treated to a visual feast when the recruit reached up to open his strange shirt bit by bit, exposing the strong chest under the pale gray undershirt and making the older man swallowing his saliva in anticipation.

Slowly, the man stood up and crept closer to the youth. "Oh… Let me help you with these." Giuliano purred, reaching for the black shirt and Kirei didn't resist.

The body beneath Giuliano's palm was so very warm and supple he had to grin with delight.

 _Jackpot._

And what a beautiful jackpot, too. Giuliano considered himself a connoisseur of beauty in a male form, and his bed graced many who could boast physical perfection - or as close as they got to it - but this one, this Kirei – surpassed them all.

Even the statue of Michelangelo's David had nothing on him. Gently, Giuliano's hands pressed down on the younger man's stomach, testing the waters. Kirei only groaned, his head lolling back, exposing the slender throat and highlighting the collarbone.

"S-Sir?" His voice was lower and scratchier, causing Giuliano to shudder.

"Everything is alright, _bambino._ Your _padre_ will take care of you." He promised, his voice shaky with awe and lust as he leaned over Kirei, his face hovering above the young one, and lips opening slightly in preparation to steal a kiss from those lips, surely made to sin.

The next moment was a blazing pain when his throat was mercilessly crushed by the steel-fingered hand, those previously drug-sleepy eyes dark and cold on his face.

"The only one I would allow to take care of me… you took him from me. What made you even _think_ you would be a good enough substitute?" Kirei asked, his voice cold and clear when his fingers dug deeper and with a practiced move, he snapped the man's neck causing the man's body – now corpse - sag into his hand.

Wordlessly, Kirei stood up, and still holding the corpse by throat, he carried it into the man's bedroom, where he arranged it as if it were sleeping, his mana working overtime to purge the rest of the drug out of his body. His eyebrows scrunched at the feeling of headache and buzz in his head, but disciplined as he was, he didn't allow it to overwhelm him.

He had work to do and time was of essence.

With that in mind, he strode out of the room, silently closing the door behind.

Momentarily closing his eyes, he concentrated, feeling out the prana signatures in the house. He was almost there, _almost_ – when his eyes snapped open with shock at the extremely familiar - and brash something - piercing his senses like red lightning.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling the drug-induced buzz dive down, but headache spike up sharply, he mouthed out a very unholy word.

When this whole affair would be over, someone was in for a very overdue spanking.

With that in mind, he stormed through the hallway, not heeding the people jumping left and right in order to avoid the irate guard on a mission.

* * *

Kiritsugu was not a happy camper. Everything was going well - well, as good as it could go, what with little old him being held under the muzzle of a gun because some paranoid son of a bitch thought it would be fun to see him squirm.

But to his relief - _more like horror_ \- his little stand-off with the bastard was interrupted by a snot-nosed brat who ought have to keep his tiny, ugly mug out of the things that don't concern him.

(Yes, Kiritsugu had a beef with the brat. Ever since he had to practically kick him out when they were planning how to infiltrate the fortress. Kiritsugu may have had many deaths on his conscience, but he would be damned if he knowingly allowed one more, even if that were one of a particularly naggy and bratty kid with spitfire eyes.)

Both he and Matteo - the wiry chatterbox from hell, Kiritsugu had never in his life met someone who would talk so fast and expect to be understood – skidded to a halt in front of the side entrance, only to stare with horrified wonder.

Because there he was, Kirei holding the brat in question by the scruff of his ragged shirt and glaring at the kid who was spitting at him the foulest curses imaginable while trying to punch him.

"Kirei!" Kiritsugu barked, causing the duo's attention to switch to him. "Is that the brat who caused the ruckus?" The said brat crossed his arms on his skinny chest and if the looks could kill, Kiritsugu would've been already drawn and quartered at least hundred times.

Kirei glared back. "Of course. Apparently he and his stupid band of kids got a dare to sneak in to save the princess or something equally as foolish." He snapped back, causing Kiritsugu to blink with surprise at his edgy tone.

"I am not! I am here to help – "The brat piped up, snarling at Kirei with his tiny teeth, still trying to claw him with his hands, ineffectual as the action was.

Kiritsugu scoffed. "Che. You are not here to help, but you are a _nuisance!"_ he barked out, all out glaring at the boy, who stilled in Kirei's grip. "I've told you once, I've told you a million times - keep your shitty games away from here!"

The brat stilled, and for a moment, Kiritsugu saw that hurt and vulnerability in those dark eyes, but then, it was overwhelmed with the hate - hate so strong Kiritsugu felt as if he were physically punched into stomach.

 _"Tu sei stronzo…"_ The boy hissed, only for Kirei to harshly shaking him by the scruff of his shirt like some kind of unruly kitten. The boy glared up to Kirei, and his face paled at the look in the priest's eyes.

If he were in his position, Kiritsugu freely admitted he would've done the same.

Kirei was pissed off and Lord have mercy on the poor kid who managed to do such feat.

* * *

Perhaps, maybe, probably, this was a bad idea.

Xanxus wilted in the man's hold.

How could such a stupidly simple plan go so wrong so fast?

All they had to do was search for the Gavilano's residence, watch out for the patrols and then, when nobody paid them any attention, sneak in. They didn't know the layout of the building, but fuck it, it shouldn't be so different from any other, right?

Only, someone made a stupid mistake – how could they have known, that this stupid hole in the wall was practically stuffed with sensors, and not even five minutes in the garden, they were ambushed by the _bastardi_ that apparently guarded it.

It had been only the two of them – Ciro luring away one, while Xanxus had to deal with someone he didn't think he would face against in this place.

That fucking priest absolutely toyed with him, giving him a false hope, and just when Xanxus though he was scot-free, the man appeared in front of him, like a ghost, and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, lifting him up like Xanxus weighted as little like a newborn kitten.

"Are you _stupid?"_ The man hissed to him, while Xanxus snarled, swiping his hands in an effort to hit the bastard's body, but unluckily for Xanxus the priest's reach was longer and it didn't help that he was in such an undignified pose, barely able to do anything but spit curses and glares at the man.

"Of course I am not!" Xanxus hisses back, still struggling. "You _bastardi_ simply took too long to rescue him!" They glared at each other, only to be interrupted by arrival of an unknown man and Kiritsugu.

Xanxus would've admired the duo's skill, infiltrating in Freccia so smoothly, but right now, he was too pissed off to care. His ire skyrocketed even more when he heard the stupid priest spit out this - this idiotic cover story and when they will be out, may Heaven help him, because Xanxus will have no mercy on him.

 _'You are not here to help but you are a nuisance!'_ And oh, that hurt. Xanxus expected that, because he was a kid, but to hear it laid out so blatantly, it made something in his chest break and in this moment, he hated the messy haired _stronzo_ enough to kill him without prompting. The man apparently saw it in his eyes, if his facial expression was anything to go by - but it was only a flash and then, he was harshly shaken in Kirei's hold, causing to look up at the man… and freezing.

There was an expression - to face a devil - and right this moment, Xanxus was staring one in their eyes. _No._ He gulped, unconsciously shrinking back into himself. This was a demon staring down at him, ready, willing and able to tear both his body and immortal soul into tiniest pieces in the slowest, most agonizing way possible.

After what seemed to be a minor eternity, that burning gaze slid off of him and Kirei moved forward, still carrying Xanxus like one would trash in a garbage bag.

"Hey, hey. All that commotion over one little brat?" The unknown man asked, sneering at Xanxus, only to yelp with fright when Kirei glared at him, both the assassins passing him and heading back to report to their superior, leaving behind a man shaken to his very bones making a sign of cross on his body and muttering prayers for protection before he hurried after the trio, keeping a healthy distance between his person and the priest.

(Xanxus was not the only one to see the devil this day.)

* * *

Marzio leisurely headed back to the cage where his little bird was waiting for him.

He felt anticipation course in his veins as he thought of his pretty Sky and how beautiful would it look on his sheets, crying and sobbing while Marzio would take his pleasure.

Chuckling darkly, he strode through corridors, not minding the servants bowing to him when he passed them. They were worthless and easily replaceable anyway, rats in a human guise, only good enough to fulfill the orders and nothing else.

The Freccia had been dwelling within the underbelly of the lawless world long enough to know and enforce the strict rules. Most of the _famiglias_ moved on with time, but Freccia still retained its roots, violent, bloody and uncompromising like they used to be in the times of Nero and glory days of Coliseum. Not many in the underworld knew of them, but those who did, were either dead and buried, or if they had the stupendous luck of surviving the onslaught, they learned the single most important lesson.

If you want to mess with Freccia, don't. If you still want to go ahead, then life after provoking that sleeping hydra was not worth living.

And Marzio was the sole inheritor of this terrible legacy, which could now expand even more, and finally usurp those Vongola bastards.

Marzio sobered when he finally stopped at the unremarkable door leading to his Sky. Pausing for a moment, he then opened it, striding into the dark room confidently while his anticipation grew as he closed the door silently, and the locks smoothly slid into their places. He reached for the switch, nonchalantly flipping it, letting the light spread into the previously dark space.

"Are you prepared to yield, little Sky?" He purred out as he turned around, only to freeze when he didn't see his toy where he had left it anymore.

"Are you?" The voice called out, snapping his attention to the king-sized bed, where a stranger was standing in front of the unconscious boy who had been carefully tucked underneath the covers.

Marzio's eyes narrowed.

"Who the hell are you?" He snapped out, his thumb discreetly palming his the ring on his middle finger as he glared at the stranger. "And who sent you?"

The stranger was clothed into midnight blue, with only his face visible to the Freccia's don. His dark grey eyes were glaring at him and there was that indescribable feeling to him, strange and yet familiar at the same time, as if –

Eyes widening with rage, Marzio snarled.

That bastard was the reason his lovely little Sky was so stubborn!

He reached for the knives to launch at the interloper, but it was already too late.

The unknown man - actually, he was still a teen on the verge of adulthood - sprang forward like a cheetah on the hunt, and the next thing Marzio felt was pain, like someone crushed his chest in one blow with a sledgehammer.

"You took him from me. So you only have to blame yourself for unfavorable consequences." The stranger said, before delivering another blow, this time to the jaw, breaking it, causing Marzio to emit a choked wail as he stumbled backward, his eyes wild and for hunched when he tried to escape the devil guarding the sleeping boy on the bed, fingers trembling as he tried to draw out his trusty knives but ultimately failing.

He felt something wet trying to force itself past his lips, familiar in taste and consistency.

His blood.

 _'Don't try to chain the little Sky, darling.'_ His _nonna_ 's warm, weary voice echoed in his mind, like it was coming from water, all warbled and distant.

 _'Chains can never hold it.'_

His dulling eyes stared at the devil that stopped in front of him as he was yanked up harshly, looking into those gray eyes which were glowing faint blue and green, the two colors intermixing and creating a hypnotic effect.

 _Oh_. So that was why. The beautiful little Sky… was already bonded.

He mustered up another grin, full of insanity - all of his beautifully crafted plans fell apart because he hadn't taken into account the Sky brat that was prophesized to be his – _his, his, only his_ \- already had a Guardian.

 _But if I can't have it… then neither will you!_

A silent alarm was ringing, unknown to his murderer, and soon, very soon, the bastard will feel the pain of his oh so precious bond breaking apart, just like he broke one Marzio Gavilano.

Walk quietly and carry a big stick, indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters in the story, aside from original ones, I also don't own the song used as a prompt. I do own the story.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Yeah, no. Sorry for the delay, freezer troubles. I intended to update in the morning, like I usually do, but lo and behold, this thing took its sweet time up until now. So I added another section, called _**Scribble**_ , which contains a part of the future chapter - or at least one of them. So, like teaser.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, violence, gore, Italian curses, and the beginning of a legend. Self beta-ed.

* * *

 _I always knew a missing piece_

 _Was waiting in the dark_

 _Like a quiet melody_

 _But if I listened hard_

 _I could hear the sound_

 _Rising from the ground_

 _Every moment until now_

 _I was dying to change from a spark to a flame_

 _I want fire, fire_

( _'Black Sky'_ , by _Arrows to Athens_ )

* * *

The darkness he was hovering in the middle of was interrupted by flashes of pain and discomfort, and, for some reason, stiffness. It had been a dubious mercy when he had been pulled in - dubious because being unconscious meant being vulnerable, even if the pain, from frozen muscles and back wounds which had been thankfully muted enough for him to almost forget the situation he was in.

In this darkness, he should have felt safe. Because that was, what his cupboard, was, wasn't it? It was dark. And relatively safe, because none of the three Dursleys went into it, having cited that he contaminated the place with his freakish presence. At the time he didn't understand their reasoning, but he was thankful nonetheless.

He should have felt scared. Terrified even. Darkness was present when he had gone to rescue that Weasley girl. Darkness, hiding a thousand-years old snake who could kill with not only venom, but by its sight. Darkness was what it greeted him when he had had his bout with Quirrel. Darkness meant helplessness, being at someone's mercy and not knowing what would happen next, if those behind your back were safe.

Instead, the darkness - this time felt like some kind of a suspension, as if something was about to happen soon.

 _So. Very **. Soon.** _

The darkness held him, like some kind of a black nest, full of shadows, a quiet melody, singing to something that was about to be born, something new, and he ought to be scared, if not for the feeling…the feeling that whatever happened - however and whenever it happened, it would be alright, a final, long-forgotten piece of puzzle falling into picture and then-

Harry of course didn't think like that - it was more like sensed it, vague premonition taking its hold after such a long time of being completely suppressed, but now –

Now, it was rising.

And Harry - for he was _Harry_ , he knew that now - he smiled, even when they were still in the middle of the enemy's territory, where just about million things could go wrong at any time –

There was a tiny kernel of warmth, almost not worthy to be called a spark, but glowing nonetheless, a familiar, shivery warmth, a candle in the void, its light nowhere to be seen, but still here, still existing and just waiting to –

He felt - he didn't know how or when or even why - that blue/green presence close to him - ahead of him for a moment, before returning and then they were off –

\- the action spurring the pitifully weak spark to open, like flower of warmth and light, flooding his being.

* * *

Kuzuki Soichiro was not a happy man at the moment. If he only had more time, he would have tortured the bastard who was currently happily choking on his own blood and lack of air, for the next thousand years. Well. Not so many, but really, some month or two wouldn't be out of his capabilities. Human's body was really a wonder, after all, with how resistant it was, despite being so very weak and sensitive.

But he knew they didn't have time. The entire operation had been a hazard from the get-go, even with all the info given through Kiritsugu's informant, who was extremely thorough with the details,that very moment, Kuzuki wondered just how could someone like Kiritsugu afford that, for his attire didn't really spell out someone who had bottomless money pockets.

The doors burst open, and five guards stormed in, all armed and dangerous.

But Kuzuki already vanished - or at least it seemed like that, not giving the _mafiosi_ in question the time to regroup from the shock of seeing their leader immovable on the floor - and the next ten seconds saw them having been given the same fate as their erstwhile leader, not even being allowed to scream or otherwise alert their comrades scurrying about the mansion, just five steps away from the door they had burst through.

It was like this room didn't exist.

Broken necks. Caved in chest bones. Crushed skulls. All that terrifying damage inflicted by assassin's bare hands, assisted by his sheer physical strength.

Then, Kuzuki turned back to the still unconscious form on the bed, his hands and elbows speckled with blood and grey matter, looking down at his precious friend with a small, fond smile forming on his lips.

It was a good thing that Harry was unconscious, that he hadn't seen just what kind of monster one Kuzuki Soichiro was. Because Kuzuki wouldn't have been able to bear if those warm, green eyes turned darker with terror and disgust at the sight of his person.

Not that Harry would, of course, but seeing and just _knowing_ were two different things.

But if Kuzuki had to be a monster, then it was just as well that he was a monster to protect his most person. With that firm resolution in his mind, something shifted within him again, and unnoticed to him, his eyes glinted with blue and green. His still clenched fists emitted a faint, almost unnoticeable green glow before fading away as he strode forward to the window he had sneaked through and placing his hands on it, he twisted the thick iron bars apart, making an opening, big enough for the two of them to get through.

* * *

Meanwhile, the two intruders and one brat had different problem to deal with altogether. Kiritsugu was still fuming, what with this little snag in his plans – he was more than tempted to write off the brat as a collateral damage in all this, but if he had done this, Harry would've known - somehow - and yeah, no. Not an acceptable outcome.

The brat's presence also itched - not like Kirei's, but a different sort of _itch,_ and Kiritsugu had to hold himself back from reaching over, tear the brat out of Kirei's hold and then strangle him. Or hang him by his hamstrings. Or maybe some Chinese torture…

Even if the feeling of pain in his chest had eased, it had left behind something unfamiliar, but still, something that Kiritsugu felt he should have known how to deal with. It was like silence before the hurricane actually hit. Once, Kiritsugu had to do a hit on a bunch of cultists that had been doing particularly gruesome rituals with human sacrifices in America, and it was just his luck that the place was in the way of so-called Tornado Alley, the space where this natural phenomenon occurred most frequently. Kiritsugu didn't like to remember that mission, because it had been disaster from the beginning to the end. He had to sacrifice the remainder of kidnapped victims who were still alive in order to ensure that the entire bunch of overzealous murderers - they worshiped something called Jashin - were put down for good. And even Kiritsugu himself barely escaped with his life - not because his targets had been so incredibly competent, but simply because he had bad luck of having to execute the mission just before the tornado hit the area he was in.

He remembered the feeling of the air pressing down, the deaf silence - a warning sign that something dire was about to happen, and the ever-darkening, yet still somehow bright cloudy sky. And precisely this feeling was now nestling within his chest, causing his moot do plummet even further.

That was why he didn't what to include amateurs in his operations - they automatically assumed they knew better than him, and then proceeded to loose cannons through the entire shtick.

(And if - not if, but _when_ \- they came out in one piece, Kiritsugu swore, that he would give the little brat a good trashing on his behind to smoke out that idiotic arrogance o of his. Really, for such a tiny one would think he would be a little more humble.)

Even if he was fuming, he didn't overlook how this Matteo guy stiffened in alarm. There was no auditory signal, but Kiritsugu's gut clenched anyhow - there was, after all, only one conclusion to the sudden spike in activity, especially when taking in account the people who reacted to the signal, were all guards.

Dammit. That was one thing Kiritsugu didn't count on.

 _Silent alarms!_

"What's going on?" He asked when both he and Kirei began to jog after Matteo, exchanging concerned glances.

"Don't have a clue." Their guide replied absentmindedly as they were storming through the corridors, the brat in Kirei's grip having enough brains to be, for once, silent. "But _Maestro_ Marzio had activated his personal alarm, meaning he had been attacked.

Dull black eyes widening with shock, Kiritsugu couldn't help but wonder just what the fuck had Kuzuki been thinking, to assault the bastard out of the blue.

The entire operation was meant to be simple - infiltrate, cause diversion, get Harry, make another commotion with additional possibility of warning civilians to get out, and finally -

"What's the protocol in such case?" Kirei was remarkably calm when they thundered up the stairs, his breathing still calm, despite carrying a burden in one hand, causing Matteo to flick him an impressed glance, before looking ahead again.

"Some of people were already dispatched to the boss' location. " Matteo explained, huffing with slight exhaustion. "The next one to call would be Giuliano, but if not, then Sergio would dispatch additional forces to where it's needed."

"Perhaps I could go find him?" Kirei offered, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if concerned. Kiritsugu threw him an unimpressed glare. The Magus Killer knew dammed well that the priest was acting, but damn, did the bastard have the balls to offer to return back to the crime scene he had undoubtedly caused.

"No need. Sergio will call him up. But on the other hand, you two have to get back to Sergio, considering you still don't have the communication equipment." Matteo said, his tone almost apologetic.

* * *

They burst into the observation room, only to be confronted with Sergio barking orders to the different people here. The bear-like man was not happy.

"I want you to catch the fucker, and I want it done _yesterday!"_ He roared at one of the underlings, spitting a Russian expletive when they didn't move fast enough. His dark eyes stopped on Kirei and narrowed.

 _"You!"_

The snarl was entirely expected, but still a surprise. "Did you do it?" Sergio snapped, those usually lazy eyes black drills trying to dig the truth out of the priest with but a glare.

Kirei stared back, not amused in the slightest. "On what ground am I being accused on?" He snapped back, his own dead brown eyes boring holes in the man's face.

"On what ground he says – " Sergio was speechless at the newbie's audacity. Was that son of a bitch actually serious? Likewise, Kiritsugu didn't know whether to face palm or congratulate the priest.

Kotomine Kirei, priest with balls of steel.

"You were the last one see in his company." Sergio's words, delicate as they may have been, turned the attention of the remaining six men in the room to the young man standing in the middle of the room, still holding the brat by the scruff of his neck, like he was some kind of a rebellious kitten, seemingly unconcerned by the amount of guns being leveled at his person.

"Not to mention," Sergio snarled, his proverbial hackles rising even further – "That you are bonded to someone." He leaned forward, slapping his hands on the desk, the sharp sound in a direct opposition to a tense silence reigning in the room.

Kirei stilled.

 _Bonded to someone?_

What was that man talking about now?

"What are you talking about?" His own voice was now sharper than intended, making Sergio to unconsciously lean back from him.

"Don't try to pretend, boy!" Sergio snarled, now the humanized image of a pissed off, rabid bear on a warpath. "I could taste it on my tongue the moment you two brats entered the room! You two are bonded to a Sky and you still dared to – "

His tirade was interrupted via knife piercing his throat, transforming the rest of the speech into pathetic gurgle, the blood gushing from the wound in a scarlet waterfall, the sickly sweet scent permeating the room as the man slumped over the table, his eyes glassy with shock and pain -

Five seconds later – no, even less - the men slumped on the floor, like marionettes with their strings cut, each of them sporting a hole either in their chest or head.

Wide brown and black eyes watched Kiritsugu eye the now dead targets with the cold disinterest while he switched out the magazines, his hands steady and sure before hurrying to the consoles and typing in the password. He then hit the switches, causing the screens to blackout and then, the alarms began blaring out loudly.

* * *

Xanxus gawped. He didn't even see the man move when he shot those bastards!

"Lets get a move on." Kiritsugu snapped at Kirei. "Fifteen minutes before this place blows to hell."

Kirei nodded. "North entrance?" He retorted, making Xanxus look from one to another, bewildered by their cryptic words.

"What the fuck – " He tried to ask, but Kiritsugu's glare effectively silenced him.

"Yes." Kiritsugu was equally as short. "I will take the brat." Xanxus was unceremoniously dropped on the floor, causing him to glare at the taller man venomously. He was not a sack of potatoes, thank you fucking much!"

"My condolences." Kirei muttered out, causing Xanxus' jaw to drop with outrage, but before the teen could say anything, the priest was already out of the room.

"Why, thank you." Kiritsugu snapped at the door waspishly, before glaring down at Xanxus. "I don't have time to babysit you, and if you don't want to be dead like trash here, then fucking listen to me." He snapped at the boy.

Xanxus cringed.

Was it too late to sincerely regret treading on Death's toes?

* * *

Kirei didn't try to be exactly subtle, what with his intention to draw as much forces away from Kiritsugu's position as possible. Not that it was hard to be – sowing unrest and disorder via executing the guards who had the misfortune to be on his path was enough.

He activated the Black Keys, the usually whitish blue flames were now the mixture of sharp yellow and deep violet, holding them like claws between his knuckles while he barreled into his enemies, using both tthe blades and his legs to deal the greatest damage possible.

Right now, the strange new colors were the least of his concern. Of course, the sensations that came along with this were something new too - nothing like using mana, this energy was both heavier and lighter at the same time, but all Kirei cared about right then, was the damage being dealt with it.

Contrarily to the whitish blue blades, those new ones seemed to, if they only scratched his opponents, accelerate the decomposition of the both material and flesh in a matter of seconds - not to the degree they would rot upon the single touch of the blades, but the decay spread with a considerable speed still, causing the opponents to scream and howl with agony while clutching at their appendages which rapidly swelled to very sickly colors, indicating advanced gangrene, their horrified compatriots helpless to do anything to stop the infection.

Death at this stage would be a mercy to them. But Kirei wasn't inclined to feel mercy. Those people who dared to steal his most precious person….. they deserved to suffer, in this and the next world. And a a part of him - -the greatest part, which had been up until now forcibly chained down in the deepest pits of his be )having only been allowed to the surface in the select situate that demanded Kirei act like an Executor), was now free, wild, and rampaging all across the place.

And Kirei… rejoiced.

* * *

"Who the hell are you _bastardi!"_

Kiritsugu shrugged nonchalantly while he pushed Xanxus behind his back none too gently.

"You can say that we are kind of a calvary." He snarked before his gun once again made deep impact on the enemy via unloading the bullets into their collective skulls.

Each of the shots hit their target with lethal precision, and despite the violence and murder occurring right then, there was a beauty in the scene - a beauty that made Xanxus stare, transfixed, at Kiritsugu while the man was dealing with their opponents.

Kiritsugu, who, despite having been faced with a multitude of enemies, was still calm as cucumber, but still focused on the task with a terror-inducing intensity. In the boy's six years old mind, Kiritsugu became the epitome of cool.

This scene - Kiritsugu with dark eyes, twin voids of death, with two guns blazing at their enemies would be enough for Xanxus to decide what kind of a weapon he would like to have when he would grow up.

His daze was interrupted by Kiritsugu impatiently calling out for him to fucking already, and Xanxus complied.

(And if he picked a gun or two on his way out, then this was no one's business but his own.)

* * *

What should have been a quiet evening was turning out to be a mess of epic proportions. And what was worse, Freccia didn't know just how many people they had to deal with.

The control room was in shambles, and there were reports of both Giuliano and Sergio having been killed along with Sergio's subordinates present at the times. Worse yet, someone managed to sneak in and drop maestro Marzio himself.

The only clue anyone had, was that Marzio's latest victim had been taken, so it wasn't hard to extrapolate that the ones who made such a mess were this teen's friends.

What begged the question, was just who was insane - and resourceful enough not only to get in, but also to kill three of the highest positioned men in the Freccia _famiglia_ without so much as by your leave.

Neither of the two known ones said anything about belonging to any family. They could be hired guns, for all they knew about them.

Adriano was not the highest in the hierarchy, nor was the cleverest. He got into the _famiglia_ by pure dumb luck - or misfortune - of having the senses sharp enough to sense the Flames.

And right now, the young man had a headache of epic proportions.

He had widened out the senses, trying to catch the perpetrators and determine their Flame natures in order to better deal with them. The Sensing was a delicate business, because if one wasn't careful, they could be dragged within the sphere of influence of an Element, which could destroy their very sanity.

Rain? They would feel like drowning.

Lightning? Thunderbolts down your spine if your luck didn't keep up with you this day.

Cloud and Mist were essentially almost the same – suffocating their very lungs, only the Mists were more devious than their counterparts.

Storms were ones of the hardest - they were screaming, violent torrents of energy, all aiming to render the miserable bastard who antagonized them apart in the most violent matter possible.

In comparison with Storms, Suns just make you feel like a burned out husk.

Skies were more or less harmless compared to their Elements - _mostly_ harmless, if you weren't stupid enough to agitate one and then feel like being thrown into a miniature black hole for its pleasure.

And right now, Adriano was that sorry a bitch who had the dubious pleasure of being subjected to the Elements' antagonistic presence.

All well and dandy, however something didn't feel right. Scowling, Adriano frowned as he concentrated once more, only to be hit with a deep feeling of nausea when he tried to concentrate on the least volatile two out of them, Rain and Lightning.

He made a sickened noise, prompting a concerned frown from his senior. "Oi, _bambino_ , you alright?" The man asked, concerned as his hand landed on Adriano's shoulder in an effort to stabilize him. "Got anything on them?"

"Doesn't make any sense." Adriano managed to get out, his face faintly green with sickness as he tried to curl into himself to stave off a little bit of the misery pressing on him. "It's like the two of them are in a discord, or at least very near that point. But if that were true…" He trailed off as he looked up at the man who blanched a stark white. Adriano could only small nod of misery.

Discord. _Dio Mio._ Anything but a Discord, please. Give them sane, if pissed off Element to deal with any day, but not a Discorded one.

 _"Madonna Santa, non dite cosi!"_ The man choked out. "Adriano, are you sure?" Adriano winced, as he concentrated once more, and then – There. A small flicker, completely covered by burgeoning Lightning and Rain but there, a tiny spark to fuel the change further into a wild, raging inferno.

 _"Porca miseria!"_ He yelped out, his eyes wide and unseeing as he tried to concentrate more. "Our luck can't be so bad, can it?"

As if to prove him wrong, there was a flash of the one thing all of the Elements and mafia sought after.

A tiny bit of Harmony.

Which should have been a happy occasion in ordinary setting, but right now, it was like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water over Adriano's head. Without thinking, he snatched a gun from some nameless flunky and then shot him with it, causing his partner to look at him with shock.

 _"Che diavolo,_ Adi?" Have you gone insane?" The man barked at him, but Adriano looked at him with eyes, devoid of hope.

"Our luck is just that bad, Benito." Adriano's reply was toneless as he felled another grunt.

"They have a Sky."

The now named Benito froze for a moment, and then, an ugly curse sailed through the air as he too, turned his gun toward his until-then comrades, opening hostile fire.

Adriano screamed out in agony, his eyes sightless as the tornado of drowning/lightning overwhelmed him, barely feeling the bullets piercing his chest, not even hearing Benito's howl of denial.

Those - _monsters_ ….

The only thing in his mind at the moment he fell was…

 _They have a Sky._

* * *

Never before had Kuzuki been so grateful for his training.

(And, of course, Kiritsugu's stash of toys. While going bare-handed was all good and well, it paid off to have some long-ranged weaponry too.)

He twisted in the air, being careful of his precious burden bundled onto his back.

A small hiss of pain nearly lost his concentration, but he still managed to land safely, quickly ducking behind one of the chimneys and praying that it would hold on long enough to get some rest and overall view of the situation.

Judging by the noise in the quarters on the south side, Kiritsugu was well into the fray, and Kirei was heading to the north with all the due speed, dispatching the resistance on his way effortlessly, if the panicked screams and commands were anything to go by.

Kuzuki would've been almost impressed. For only an Executor, Kirei could very well go toe to toe with the best of the Assassins Kuzuki's guild could offer at the moment - or at least those who by some miracle managed to escape Kuzuki's brand of justice. But still. Kuzuki cringed when one particularly loud sound reached his ears. Did Kirei _have_ to be so very noisy?

Instead his attention was turned to someone else.

"Harry?" He muttered, trying to keep his voice low enough not to be heard.

A groan of pain answered him.

"S-Soichiro?" The croaky voice questioned back, prompting Kuzuki to unconsciously smile at the sound.

"Yeah, me. We've came to rescue you." He added needlessly, and an unhappy growl near his neck answered him back, causing him to shiver at the moist breath hitting the sensitive skin here through the fabric separating it from the cool night air.

"Shush." Kuzuki snapped back. He knew what was Harry thinking - how could he not- but Harry ought to perish that line of thought, and the sooner, the better for all involved. It was already inconceivable enough that he thought they would leave him alone to weather whatever that bastard had planned for him. "This was our choice. You would've done the same for any of us –" And wasn't that a bittersweet fact to know – "So don't you dare to say that we can't do the same!"

The teen's thighs around his waist - he carried Harry piggyback - weakly squeezed his sides as in reprimand for his behavior, sending a flicker of fire through the assassin's body.

A small hoot later, Kuzuki felt the being land on the top of his head. He stilled when the dangerous avian let out a short, angry bark, and then, there was a ruffle of feathers hitting so – and judging by Harry's yelp, it was his head.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But two or three barks and yelps later, Kuzuki was, despite being in a very dangerous position - anyone who had working eyes would have seen a dark mass and a bird cuffing with its wings at that dark mass, seemingly reprimanding it - but he couldn't.

He giggled. It was a small, quiet giggle, which began with a tiny snort and then continued with the peals of the merry sounds. Harry's growl equally as helpless as was frustrated, didn't help the matters.

"Accept the justice so that we can move on. We both know – " He snorted again "That Hedwig is right and you are wrong."

In response, the dangerous avian perching on his head hooted with approval and nipped Kuzuki's right ear affectionately, before launching into the air and fly to their designated point, Kuzuki swiftly following their guide.

Huffing, Kuzuki's burden resigned to its position, lips quirking into a tiny smile as he replayed his usually serious, stern-faced friend helplessly giggling at his plight.

He wouldn't mind hearing that sound some other time.

* * *

 _"Va all'inferno!"_ That kind of shrieks and curses did nothing to stop Kiritsugu from advancing. The Magus Killer looked at wrist clock.

Seven minutes.

The brat at his side was spitting equally uncomplimentary curses back, and Kiritsugu's teeth hurt from just being close to him, this pressure building, and _fuck,_ he had enough trouble controlling his own energy, whatever it was, leashing it so it didn't turn on him and destroy him, body and soul. Or the brat.

It was rubbing him wrong in so many ways it wasn't even funny. He was tempted - _oh so very tempted_ \- to turn the gun - preferably one with Origin Bullet in - to the brat and let it loose.

Maybe then that horrible itch would go away.

The brat was manning the guns he filched from the grunts some ways back clumsily, and more often than not, his shoots went way past their intended targets by such a large margin Kiritsugu could cry a river - this was a disgrace to guns and their wielders everywhere and once more, he had to resist the urge to whap the back of the brat's head and give him a blistering lecture that would surpass even the one Natalia had given him when he did something just as stupid, but thankfully in controlled environment.

And…

Were his eyes deceiving him, or was he really seeing around the brat's hands tiger-striped flame in different shades of orange?

"Kid. Stop fucking with colors." He snapped at the brat, this time not resisting the impulse to whack the brat one, earning a surprised yelp.

"Ow _! Che diavolo vuoi?_ I don't have any colors!" The brat spat back, but Kiritsugu saw them intensify a little bit more as he clutched the guns in his hands harder.

And of course, that fucking feeling of being rubbed against his proverbial fur was back.

Growling, Kiritsugu yanked the feeling back

- _annihilate him –_

The starved beast in the back of his mind growled out, emitting a low purr of malice.

 _One for ten._

 _Remember?_

 _Ten for hundred_.

 _And then…. **Hundred for thousand.**_

* * *

Xanxus snarled at his guide, only to stop and stare into the eyes, which were, at the moment, dark violet with the jagged lines of bright red intermixed within, the gaze of an abyss given form and color.

This feeling - Xanxus stepped back, trembling, his heart thundering beneath the ribcage like only a mouse's in front of the greatest of predators would.

Ever it was - the feeling, aura or something – it pressed down on the kid and their enemies surrounding them, causing the grunts to hurriedly vacate the premises.

The hurricane was about to be unleashed and none of them were suicidal enough to try and weather it.

Biting his lip until it bled, Xanxus backed down, his instincts frantically howling at him to get the _fuck_ out of there else be stomped into a bloody smear - and for some reason, the threat didn't seem as silly as it would have if there was any other person.

* * *

Kirei jerked in the middle of the disposing of his opponent.

The sheer malice he had sensed just ten meters ahead meant nothing good.

But the feeling was enough to jerk him out of his self-imposed rampage, this side of him satisfied with his victims' suffering, even if he knew, only too well, that this kind of satisfaction would be temporary.

The rest of the terrified guards didn't know what to think when their opponent suddenly ran past them like bat out of hell - but they didn't have any time to feel relief for this monster turning its attention elsewhere.

* * *

Kirei's strikes, even hurried as they were, still hit their points with lethal precision.

Ten seconds later, the corridor which was up until now filled with the sounds of fighting, was devoid of fire and screams, leaving behind only death and silence.

* * *

Xanxus made another step back, but that didn't seem enough to appease the beast in human guise in front of him.

Kiritsugu's arm raised up, and for the first time in his meager, pitiful life, Xanxus stared into the barrel of the gun and the eyes of a man who honestly wanted to murder him –

-only for the black shadow to jump over him and knock the gun off its course, causing Kiritsugu to snarl with rage.

 _"Knock it off!"_ The shadow, now revealed to be the priest, barked out and Xanxus honestly felt his legs became a jello at this precise moment - so relieved he was. "Harry is waiting for us!"

There was another violent struggle, with Kirei having to aim a harsh strike toward the assassin's throat, but Kiritsugu dodged. Blinking rapidly, the violet and red iris slowly bleed out, but not completely.

"You don't need to tell me." He snorted. "And tell the fucking brat to tone down his colors. Otherwise next time even you won't be fast enough to prevent me from ventilating his head."

Xanxus, who was straightening out from his hunched in position he instinctively tucked himself in when Kirei jumped over him, flinched back as if struck. Dark brown, emotionless eyes swiveled to him, and Xanxus felt his heart lodge within his throat when usually blank brown slowly bled into yellow and indigo and the blood-splattered hands clenched on those strange hilts hard enough for the knuckles become bone white in process.

"I-I'm not doing anything! I swear I'm not!" He blurted out, his eyes wide with fright. Those unsettling dual toned eyes looked up and down his body, scanning him like a very advanced - and terrifying X-ray.

"No. At least consciously, you aren't." Kirei allowed it, swiftly dodging Kiritsugu's attempt to pistol-whip him, and at the same time - Xanxus wasn't sure but – ignited one of those hilts with the same indigo color inlaid with yellow like his eyes were, the …. Long sword? Knife? - becoming a bolt of light when it streaked to the enemy behind Xanxus' back, and lodging into the man's chest, it made it explode like some kind of an exploding bullet, only with less noise and more gore.

Kirei's eyes bore into Kiritsugu's, the black irises of the eyes of Magus Killer once again began to bleed into dark violet with red streaks.

"Five minutes." Kirei said. Pinching the bridge of his nose Kiritsugu closed his eyes and exhaled, absentmindedly shooting at the rope holding the chandelier and making it crash down at the three man stupid enough to think that their superior weapons would give them an advantage over the trio of intruders.

"I am too old for this shit." He snapped out, but still turned around and began running to their rendezvous point.

"Get on my back." Kirei commanded, as he knelt down. Xanxus didn't hesitate. Hastily, he got onto the priest's back, wrapping his arms around Kirei's neck and screaming with surprise when Kirei picked up a decidedly inhuman pace as he sprang forward, to run after his grumpy friend.

* * *

Four infiltrators. _Four._

It had been a disgrace to the ancient _famiglia_ that for an utter chaos, destruction and disorder of their main headquarters wasn't needed an army, like the battle scenarios had foreseen, but the shame of all shames, only four people.

And to make the matters worse, one of them was a kid.

 _A kid._

If that came out to the underground, Freccia wouldn't be a feared force anymore, but a laughingstock for centuries.

The senior members of the defending force gathered the next wave of forces, barking their orders with a bitter knowledge that no matter how many – or who - they sent against those monsters - those four riders of apocalypse - they wouldn't come back any differently than as cold corpses in different stages of massacre.

 _War_. The messy-haired, cloak-wearing man who handled the guns like they were a part of his body.

 _Famine_. A martial artist who wielded both some kind of long swords and martial arts with ruthless efficiency. Rumored to be the one to kill Giuliano.

 _Death_. Nobody knew his face. Whoever came in contact with him died. The only way they knew this person existed was that they took away Marzio's newest toy.

 _Victory._ The small mulish-faced brat following War like a puppy on a leash. He hadn't done anything noteworthy aside sneaking in the gardens and he didn't have any kills in his name, and the nickname was more of a mockery than for any real achievements.

Four of them, against Freccia in their stronghold, and damn it, the intruders were _winning._

How shameful.

"Kill them. Use any and all means, but _fucking kill them!"_

* * *

Meanwhile, the four intrepid rescuers finally made it to the rendezvous point at the north gates, with Kirei and Kiritsugu relaxing a bit when they saw a small bundle on Kuzuki's wide back, with Kuzuki standing at the edge of the roof.

Xanxus felt his eyes blur with tears - he would never admit that they were tears of relief, but insist that the fucking trash of a priest was running way too fast - when he saw Kuzuki carrying the _tourista_ \- no, Harry, in a makeshift carrier made out of clothes on his back. Violently, he rubbed them away with his fist, and then he just about screamed with terror when Kuzuki jumped down to the ground.

But Kirei only sped forward, causing him to choke with speed, and Kiritsugu - well, Kiritsugu was somehow already there, checking on the younger teen, and growling something with a gruff voice.

Five - three heartbeats, and Kirei joined the group, his eyes checking over the small bundle, his shoulders stiffening when he caught the scent of blood on the covers.

"Harry?" His voice was quiet, causing Harry to turn his head away Kiritsugu to him, green eyes widening when he saw Kirei's passenger.

"Kirei, what on earth – "Harry managed to get out, but coughed, causing Xanxus to frown.

"Yes, I am here. Deal with it." He interrupted any tirade his _tourista_ \- Harry, dammit, his name was _Harry_ \- had been gearing to speak, prompting a watery-eyed glare in his direction. But Xanxus refused to feel guilty.

"Hate to agree with the brat, but we really should be going. " This was Kiritsugu. This time, Xanxus glared at the assassin, feeling quite safe riding Kirei's back, and judging by Kiritsugu's glare, the Magus Killer knew that too as he bristled when he once again felt the brat's colors.

Kirei's back stiffened at the feeling - in such close quarters with the kid, he got to experience those brush-against-proverbial-fur feelings quite intimately, and Kuzuki stiffened, his eyes flashing between deep blue and electric green –

The only one calm here was Harry, who only gave Xanxus an exasperated, if fond glance.

"I am happy to see you alright, but let's save the posturing for another time. I don't know about you three, but I have had enough of this particular tourist trap." Harry snarked, his voice crackling at times, but the three assassins' bodies loosened with relief.

Nodding their assent, the group quietly vanished into the darkness, leaving behind the panicking Freccia whip themselves in a frenzy.

* * *

Half an hour later, the sleeping city was awoken by detonations echoing through one of the buildings, collapsing it on the spot.

Late night news reported that the honorable citizen of Florence, and the receiver of the Golden Shield of Florence for his outstanding achievements, one Marzio Gavilano and his family were killed by the terrorists. The police was still searching for the culprits, but without success, especially when the autopsy of the corpses indicated that before the building collapsed on the victims, some of them were murdered in a quite grotesque ways.

What baffled the media the most, were four words, scrawled awkwardly on a big rock which crushed one of the men's midsection, causing him to die in horrifying agony, but not before he managed to leave his last message to the world:

 ** _Quattro Cavalieri dell'Apocalisse_**

* * *

Conversely, the culprits for this furor didn't care about it. Instead, all four of them were protectively curled around their most precious person and sleeping the sleep of the righteous, for once completely relaxed in each other's presence.

Kuzuki found himself on the bottom of the puppy pile, acting as a mattress for Harry's body, while both Kirei and Kiritsugu took the sides. Xanxus, conniving little brat like he was, somehow squeezed himself between Kirei and Harry, but through the night, he ended with his hand on Harry's stomach, stubbornly embracing the young man, relaxing in the soft golden orange color that filled his mind when he closed his eyes.

All of them were too tired to protest his inclusion in the group, and the three assassins unanimously, if silently, agreed to deal with the tiny hanger-on in the morning.

This time, there won't be Harry for the brat to take cover behind.

Their colors, even if the three assassins were unaware of them, curled around Harry like huge invisible beast, shielding him from both bad dreams and outside world at least for the time they were sleeping.

Suffice to say, this time if the three - actually four of them - had any say in it, Harry would not go anywhere without their say so.

* * *

 **Scribble: A part of the future chapter in no order whatsoever**

 _Empty black eyes stared into similarly colored narrowed ones. He had known of the Black Sun, even if they hadn't worked in the same circles or territories. But Reborn was kind of notorious what with his ways of dealing with enemies, and Kiritsugu was not. Very few of people knew of his semi-notorious title of Magus Killer compared to Reborn's overly pretentious one as The World's Greatest Hitman. Kiritsugu didn't mind, but if the man sniffled around his Sky any more, then all bets would be off._


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters, the 'verses, the song. Oh, but I do own the story.

 _ **Shout out:**_ Some of you expressed a wish about seeing what was going on after Harry's explosive exit in good ole Angleterre. Rejoice, you got your wish! Sadly, no wrath-sky chibis this time, mainly because I've drawn a blank which song would be good for that kind of chapter. The chapters will be from now on posted up at random times because the workload intensified. All of of you who have exams, I wish you luck!

 _ **Warnings:**_ AU on multiple scales, interlude-ish, bad language, bad moon in England.

* * *

 _I see a bad moon a-rising  
I see trouble on the way  
I see earthquakes and lightnin'  
I see bad times today_

 _Don't go 'round tonight  
It's bound to take your life  
There's a bad moon on the rise_

( _'Bad Moon Rising'_ by Credence Clearwater)

* * *

Not even a week, and the entirety of the magical Unitend Kingdom was in furor. At first, people didn't believe - didn't _want_ to believe - that their beloved Savior could so heartlessly leave them behind in the dust just with a proverbial click of the fingers. The society was used to the outrageous stories of Harry Potter doing one or another heroic misdeed then be praised or reviled for it. And they hadn't expected the reality to shift anytime soon. Because what - Harry Potter was a child, utterly loyal to the greatness that was British wizarding world and he would be staying here like Dumbledore or his parents did. Never, ever in a million years would they think that this boy would have the guts to just up and leave - forever.

But when he had been invited to that disastrous hearing - even now, the Daily Prophet was mulling over just why had an underage wizard been tried before the full Wizengamot - why, it was _unprecedented_ to have a boy of all people tried before the entire tribunal, so to speak, and the media made for a very uncomfortable time for one Mr. Fudge questioning him about the wisdom of such decision and who exactly was the culprit for the this gross misdemeanor in justice.

Some, especially pureblooded fact, said it was a good riddance of the bad rubbish, but even they felt out of depth what with the recent happenings. It was not an issue with Muggleborns leaving the British wizarding world after being treated barely better than lepers and go on with living in some other country. But when a national icon has done the same, then it became a bone of contention not only for the British , but also - in a minor way - for other countries. Even if they didn't outright admit it, people knew that Harry Potter was a powerful wizard, and with time...he could've been even more so. But now, all this power was out and up for the grabs for anyone, and they could do nothing about it.

* * *

The mood in the Grimmauld Place was somber. The only one who was even moderately relaxed, was Sirius Black, and that irked the rest of them something fierce. When the old dog heard about what his errant godson had done his first reaction wasn't fear or concern, but laughter.

He laughed and laughed and laughed, until he was lying on the floor and laughing some more, until the only thing coming out of his throat were pained wheezes and whines from the stomach cramps he got via laughing. Of course, Molly Weasley wasn't happy with his irresponsible behavior, but all Sirius could say on the matter, was that this was the grandest and most awesome prank ever he had the honor to witness to, like befitted of a true sprog of Prongs and Lily. Good for him.

He relaxed on the semi-clean floor, not heeding Dumbledore's disappointed gaze on his person or even the Twins' inquisitive ones.

It was so, so good to know that his little pup was safe. And he would love to know his two friends, especially the cunning one, because _dayum_ , it wasn't every day that someone managed to shut the fat gobs of those boring people in Wizengamot. Moody too, approved, but he had been a little too interested when he heard that the self-same lad had also managed to somehow kill the Dementors. He would be a good addition to the Order, but the grizzled Auror had a strong suspicion that the boy would rather follow the Potter scion than ever offering his services to the wizards in any way, shape or form.

* * *

As the time went by, the invisible lines had been drawn in Grimmauld Place. Molly was wholly disapproving of Harry just upping and leaving, and there hadn't been a day when she didn't mention that Sirius ought to do a responsible thing and get Harry back, because the poor dear was undoubtedly starving and alone somewhere, but her tirades only had an effect of earning Sirius' unimpressed, if amused and wholly defiant glare back. No, this old dog wasn't moving to sniff out his pup at her behest just for him to land smack dab in the middle of the danger again, thank you very much!

The old crowd was more or less of Dumbledore's opinion that Harry ought to come back - they didn't know exactly why, but if the Dumbledore said so, then it was undoubtedly for the Greater Good, even if they didn't know what kind of Greater Good that was. But their until then unshakable belief into their leader had been irreparably fractured, especially that of the younger generation.

It was an ordinary hot, sunny day. Not that it was shown as such in the Grimmauld, where it seemed only gloom and doom ruled. The only one marginally happy was of course Sirius, while all the others adopted the concerned or depressed mien emanating from their erstwhile white-bearded leader, whose twinkly eyes at the moment were not twinkly at all.

And of course this was the n-th mandatory meeting of Getting Harry Back, starring the uncaring dog person named Sirius Black, concerned false grandfather, one Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore and of course, the obligatory peanut gallery consisting the majority of the Weasley family, one miss Hermione Granger, three Aurors, a single werewolf, one petty thief, one grumpy spy and hangers-on whose main action right now was twiddling their proverbial thumbs in their imaginary corners.

"It's of an utmost importance that Harry comes back." Dumbledore reiterated once again with a somber voice, prompting his supporters to make agreeing noises and show appropriate facial expressions. "I am fearing that the boy may have made a huge mistake in choosing his new friends – " Hermione bit her lip, while Ron put a protective arm over her shoulders as he scowled at the thoughtlessness of their more famous friend.

"Ting-a-ling." Sirius sing-songed, causing the gathered people to look at him with prejudice at his all too cheerful disposition. The convict rose his arm and waggled his fingers mockingly. "If I'm not mistaken, we've just heard the sound of bullshitting. And any friend of Harry's who is badass enough to take down two Dementors, I think it's safe to say that my favorite godson is more protected than if he had been under those measly wards you've said they protected him. Pull another one out, Dumbledore." He sneered at the now frowning leader of the Light condescendingly.

"Sirius Black, how dare you!" The resident banshee, known under the name of Molly Weasley began. "Do you really have be such an irresponsible person? Right this moment, Harry may be in trouble and – "

"And he has a backup." Sirius interrupted her. " Which is - no offense, you two – " He addressed Ron and Hermione "-More than he could claim when he had been in Hogwarts." Dark eyebrows rose up challengingly.

"Typical." Snape sneered. "All the best for the spoiled Potter brat." The people tensed, expecting Sirius to explode with anger. But surprise, surprise, the convict remained seated in his chair, just looking at the Potions Master, causing the beak-nosed man to shift in his own chair and sneer at him. "So tell me, Black, how did you manage to do it?"

"I didn't." Sirius spoke out, calm as a cucumber. Two words caused uproar in the household.

"Are you _shitting_ me, Black? " Snape barked out, jumping on his feet, the chair clattering on the floor with a crash as he slapped his hands on the desk while he amped up the glare at the canine Animagus. "Who else but you would have the resources to – "

"To do _what_ , exactly? Send a cavalry when I, just like any of you, didn't have a Merlin-damned clue that he was about to be beset by those eldritch horrors I've spent ten years with?" Sirius' voice was equally as scathing. "Sorry to disappoint you, _Snivellus_ , but I am no God, but thanks for the compliment." He paused, his face morphing into incredulous cast as if he didn't believe what he had just said. _"Ewww._ Now I am feeling all slimy. Remind me to take a long, hot shower afterwards and for the love of Merlin, keep your compliments to yourself." Snape looked a hair away from leaping across the desk and strangle him, but a stern glare from Dumbledore made him pick up his chair with jerky movements and slump back into it, even if his body still fairly vibrated with violent tension.

"Sirius my boy – " Dumbledore gave him one of his best 'I-am-very-disappointed-in-you' stares, only for Sirius to examine the nails on his right hand.

"I reiterate once again.I. Did. Not. But is it so hard to believe that Harry would have some other friends than those in Hogwarts?" He addressed the crowd, eliciting confused murmurs.

"It is, when they are capable of busting Dementors. Who were they?" The bushy-haired girl volleyed back, her gaze concerned but still hungry for any information. Waggling his eyebrows, Sirius gave her a small smirk. "I know just as much as you, sweetheart, which is to say… " He trailed off secretively. Hermione leaned forward expectantly – "Nothing much." Sirius then blithely announced, grinning like a fool. The bushy-haired girl's hopeful face abruptly drooped with disappointment, causing Ron to glare at the shameless dog in human shape.

"The real question, Dumbledore, is why are you gunning for Potter's return so much?" Moody's scratchy voice drew the attention of the gathered people, both Kingsley and Tonks nodding at his words. "As I see it, the lad has potential in Defense, but he had really gotten through all those adventures of his by a sheer dumb luck." He snorted, thumping his stick against the floor hard and causing more than one person jump in their seat with the unexpected sound. Blue eye rolled around madly until it zeroed on the gaudily clothed wizard with an unnerving intensity.

Dumbledore sighed. "I promised his parents to take care of him – " He began, only for Sirius to rudely snort at his grandfatherly spiel.

"So did I, as his godfather." Sirius grinned, his expression more of a macabre than any joy. "And look how it turned out." He sent a sharp glance to Dumbledore. "I've failed him for fourteen years. And I've paid my dues quite heavily - I don't doubt when I will go to the other side, Lily will gift me with more than just one earful for abandoning her precious baby boy, however unintentionally. You, on the other hand," - Gray eyes drilled into light blue ones "Have failed him since the very beginning. _Petunia_ , Albus? Really?" Dark eyebrows rose in askance while the other members looked at the now uncomfortable old wizard questioningly. "Lily told us - and by proxy, you, just how much of a shrew that woman was. What, did you think, that just because she got her own happy family, that she turned out to be a mild-mannered Puffskein? For Merlin's sake, Petty even spurred her when Lily personally came to invite her to her wedding!" Molly gasped at the revelation her hand covering her mouth with shock.

"Is that true, Albus?" The rotund mother demanded of the ancient wizard.

"The wards only worked if Harry was with his own blood." Dumbledore replied calmly and the woman calmed down.

But someone wasn't satisfied with the elusive answer. "Then why did that friend of Harry's - Kerry or something - tell me to ask any Ward Master worth their salt why exactly were the Blood Wards banned in the fourteenth century?" The pink-haired Auror spoke out, unintentionally causing a certain Gringotts' employee to choke on his coffee.

 _"Blood Wards!?"_ Still spluttering for air, one William Weasley, more commonly known to his family and friends as Bill, practically shrieked with outrage. "Were you fucking _daft,_ old man? Those Wards were prohibited for a reason!"

" William Weasley! Mind your tongue!" Molly tried to intervene, only for her eldest to turn back on her.

"Don't you ' _mind your tongue'_ me, Mum!" He rounded at his mother, causing her to draw back with surprise. Bill was usually very laidback, but for something to piss him off to such a degree, it had to be something very serious. "Would you say the same if I tell you that Blood Wards take their magic _directly_ from the family - yes, _directly_ , and considering that Harry's sorry lot is all Muggles it's a fucking wonder that he hadn't keeled over with the drain!" He slammed the cup he was still holding in his hand on the desk, causing it to shatter into many pieces. "Did you even _think_ to counsel a professional before raising up an equivalent to a _life-sucking machine_ \- and bonded it to a _baby_ of all things?!" Brown eyes, usually cheerful, turned into twin pieces of steel as he glared at Dumbledore.

"But his mother's sacrifice circumvented most of the load – " Bill had to gape. He really had to. Because this old man's foolishness was just _that_ astounding.

"You _idiot._ There is virtually _nothing_ to circumvent that kind of Wards." His voice, despite being completely flat, was no less forceful. "Any _novice_ in Warding could tell you that, but you still hoity-toity those monstrosities up and expect that everything would be well and dandy. Hermione," Bill turned to Hermione, whose eyes were now huge. "Did Harry have any trouble with his practical schoolwork?"

"N-Now that you mention it, he did." She stuttered, but her voice became a little bit more confident with each word she spoke. "When he came to school, first three months he usually has trouble with channeling his magic properly. But later on, he gets better, and at the end of the year he's usually at his best." She swallowed audibly at the ugly picture those seemingly unimportant fact had painted in her mind.

A grave silence greeted her proclamation.

"And _that,_ ladies and gentlemen, is the man who we ought to trust to lead us." Bill was disgusted. Abruptly standing up, he tore the necklace with phoenix pendant from his neck and dropped it on the table, the small ornament making a heavy clinking sound. Swiftly pointing at it with his wand he fired out a wordless curse, causing the pendant to melt into a puddle while the spells enchanted into the object died a shrieking death. "I am _out._ Don't call for me, don't contact me in any way, shape or form, or I will give you the _exact_ taste just what have you subjected Harry to for fourteen years." With that piece spat at Dumbledore, Bill strode out of the kitchen, and five second later, there was a tell-tale sound of a Floo being activated.

Sheer and utter disbelief and confusion.

That was what reigned after Bill's thunderous departure.

"My, my, Dumbles." Sirius' voice was deceptively mild, but his eyes were sharp, and more than a hint of insanity was glittering in them. "You were really naughty, naughty boy. What else are you hiding from us, hmmm?"

The ancient man in question didn't answer, he was sitting still in his chair as if he couldn't believe that his judgement had been so horribly wrong.

"Now, Sirius, I am sure it was just a mistake on Dumbledore's part. " Remus finally spoke up, but he was even paler and more withdrawn than before. Thinking of that, Sirius noticed that Remus was looking even more haggard and unhealthy than before, which was kind of strange, considering his furry nights weren't due yet.

"A _mistake,_ Remus, is when you are adding powdered skunk root instead of a diced one to a Fyrebyrd's solution." Sirius' voice was still gentle, as if he was speaking to an easily spooked deer. "A _mistake_ is when you trust a rat to protect your best friends in your stead." His face hardened. "A _mistake_ is grieving for recently dead friends, killed because you trusted the wrong person, in the middle of the explosion-destroyed street, thinking that people will give you a benefit of doubt when it appears you are a culprit." Sirius paused.

"But what a mistake _isn't,_ is to meddle in a field you know _jack shit_ about without consulting a professional. Last I've heard Dumb-as-a Rock here didn't hold any license, much less a Mastery in Warding." The last living Black tilted his head like an inquisitive dog. "Unless ol' Wonderboy here was holding out on us." The eyes of all collected swiveled to the still catatonic warlock questioningly.

"But Dumbledore has Harry's best interests at heart and - " Remus, poor, misguided Remus, still tried.

Sirius gave him a doggy grin, all teeth and nicety, but his eyes didn't hold any warmth in them. "And so do you, I presume?"

The werewolf gave a jerk. "O-of course I do!" He spluttered, glaring at his old friend. "He's my cub too!"

That prompted him to be subjected to one of Sirius' scanning stares, which made the ratty-clothed man shift on his chair uncomfortably . Most of people thought that he was the one who sensed the moods of people the best, but it wasn't.

It was Sirius. That man was scarily perceptive of the shifts of the masses, blind to only what he passionately loved or hated. Sirius could've been a Slytherin with that ability and his silver tongue, it was lucky for the world that the man abhorred the underhanded games, though he could play them just as well as any seasoned Slytherin.

Remus' heart jumped into his throat. Seemed that this time it was he who was target to this ruthless side of the doglike man…. And he was sure he wouldn't like the outcome.

"Then why were you stinking with guilt and fear every time you were in Harry's presence, hmmm?"

Tawny eyes widened with shock.

"I - I do?" What attempted to come out as a denial, was instead a feeble question. Sirius stood up from his chair, circling the desk and coming at the back of Remus' chair, causing the man to hunch but look at him anyway, visibly trying not to lower his eyes.

"Of course. I would know that stink everywhere. Animagus, remember?" Sirius tapped his nose mockingly, causing Lupin to jerk back, almost unbalancing himself off his seat.

"Is it so hard to believe that I regret not spending more time with him?" He gritted out, eyes flicking on the side before once again, glaring up at Sirius.

"Tell me something, Remus. When you were a wolf, did some cute vet chick get a snip of your balls and made you Dirty Martini with them? Otherwise I can't imagine just why are you so ball-less on the issue." Sirius sneered back at him, slapping the palms of his hands on the werewolf's shoulders, causing Remus to tense further.

Molly made a scandalized noise, but Arthur motioned her to be silent. This now was apparently a long time coming.

"My balls are in a working order, thank you for asking. " Remus snapped back, this time truly glaring at the bastard standing behind his chair. Sirius gave him a tight-lipped smile back, his eyes still flinty and the tips of his fingers whitened with the pressure they exerted on the werewolf's shoulders.

"Oh. Oh. _Ohhh._ Of course, my mistake. But dear me, now you stink of anger and …" Sirius sniffled, eyes flaring open dramatically, as if he just discovered something very interesting. "….surprise, surprise, guilt, guilt, guilt. So excuse me, I am still whiffing your bullshit. Care to enlighten us what naughty things you've been up to?"

That made the werewolf squirm in his chair.

"C'mon Moons. You know something, and you know me, I am dying to find out what you are hiding in your noggin. So spill the beans, you will feel all the better for it." Sirius coaxed him, his tone now a little more relaxed, but still with that calculating edge underneath the honeyed words.

"Why am I thinking that it is the exact opposite with him?" Kingsley muttered to Tonks, who only groaned and covered his face with both hands before shooting him a glare.

"He's a _Black._ What did you expect, unicorns and rainbows?" She snarked back, causing the twins who were sitting close to her to muffle their giggles at her quip.

"My dear boy, surely this isn't necessary..." Dumbledore tried again, only to be confronted with Sirius' unimpressed glance yet again.

"The very words you've said mean that it's _very_ necessary to find out what bad thing had the wolfie here done this time. And considering he had so many, many bad moons, we can expect some _very_ interesting bits." Sirius crowed, now grinning like a death reaper himself.

"Bastard." A simple word out of the usually mild-mannered man had everyone astonished. Because Mr. Remus Lupin didn't curse. Never. It was, like, written in the laws of universe or something.

"My mummy and daddy were sadly married, Moon-Moon. I would prefer to be a true-blue bastard, but we can't have everything we want now, do we? Now. What. Have. You. Done?"

* * *

 _ **Scribbles:**_

 _Fon was a humble man. Even if he had been hailed as a pinnacle of martial artists everywhere, he remained realistic. There was always someone stronger, or at least at a comparable level to him. And one Kotomine Kirei was just that. His strength and endurance were inhuman, even by Fon's standards and his knowledge of martial arts was hair-raising. The only reason Fon was still leading in this little match of theirs was because the priest didn't really bother to truly go all out and using everything at his disposal. Fon was curious of those Black Keys, for they seemed to be more of a bother than useful weapon. But curiosity killed the cat… and Fon was too curious not to poke at that particular subject. "Let's take it up for a notch." He murmured. If his smile was a little bit more bloodthirsty when he said that - well, then, it was nobody's business but his own._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer**_ : I don't own the 'verses or the song or the characters.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Because FF seems to have trouble with the announcements of the chapters in your email inboxes (if you favorited this story), I recommend you to be on a personal lookout for new chapters. On the story, back with Harry and his crew, and I am amused by some of your theories. Boy, some got it right. But I will be mum on what exactly they were right. On Sirius: He is not exactly sane. He is still in England to mess with the masses and keep them away from Harry. That's all I will say on the interlude right now.

 _ **Warnings:**_ **_AU_ ** on multiple scales, some discipline and Kiritsugu getting some new amusement along the ride. (Pray for his target. No, really, do.)

* * *

 _Riders on the storm  
Riders on the storm  
Into this house we're born  
Into this world we're thrown  
Like a dog without a bone  
An actor out on loan  
Riders on the storm_

 _('Riders of the Storm', by The Doors)_

* * *

The waking was a… interesting affair. At least for the three assassins and the little brat, all four of them clinging to some part of Harry, like they were afraid he would have disappeared if give the slightest chance. Yes, the notion alone was ridiculous, but after that scare - and the nightmarish mess that had been the rescue mission, they didn't want to take any chances.

It was uncomfortable - not only they weren't used to this kind of positions (they had to share Harry, dammit,), but there was also this persistent itch in the back of their minds. The assassin trio was most unhappy, because the cause of this imbalance was the little bratling snoozing his time away on Harry's chest….and the four of them were unable to do anything about it.

Kirei was usually very even-tempered, the result of his training and experience. But even he honestly didn't expect he would have found one person that would irritate him more than the Magus Killer. Which was a feat all on its own, because Kiritsugu had some kind of a gift to piss Kirei off beyond human comprehension, and it was only thanks to Harry their surroundings at any time were still standing.

But that Xanxus…. he… well, the kid didn't have to do anything. Just his presence alone was enough to raise Kirei's ire to murderous level. Rationally speaking, Kirei could fault that to the reason of brat being used as a bait for Harry to offer himself to that Gavilano bastard in his stead, but Kirei wasn't in a habit of lying to himself or others.

Kirei plain and simple didn't like Xanxus. His senses, as a spiritual healer and warrior, were very acute, and the brat - _Xanxus_ \- Kirei reminded himself – was just plain _wrong_. Not wrong on a level some of the eldritch horrors he had fought were, but more like… Incompatible. If Kirei tried to see the energy, like he did with Harry, Xanxus' energy was not the soothing golden and orange, but the deeper orange with reddish streaks thrown in, and for some reason, it screamed _'rude'_ to the priest.

It was _that_ offensive, and while Kirei managed to hold his instincts back, Kiritsugu wasn't one to do so with his own reactions. If Kirei had been just a little too late, the brat - _Xanxus, dammit_ \- would have been a cooling corpse with the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead for all the world to see. Kiritsugu's eyes - dark violet with the streaks of hellish red, so different from his usual twin voids of black - were a worrying testament to his reaction to the kid.

Kuzuki wasn't any better, Kirei knew, but at least the assassin had Harry to worry about back then, so any attacks on the kid or anything similar were simply unthinkable.

And Kirei himself had been tempted. Oh so tempted.

But the thing was, the brat didn't know anything about it, which soured Kirei's mood.

'You are bonded to someone.' Sergio's words, full of loathing and fear still echoed in the young Executor's mind.

If Kiritsugu hadn't silenced the man then, Kirei himself would have.

 _Bonded to…a Sky._

Despite his almost soulless appearance, Kirei wasn't stupid.

Those colors obviously had some bigger significance than just meshing with the other colors, but _bonding?_

And yet, the man didn't lie. Even now, Kirei could feel Harry, both against his body and in the back of his mind and in the warmth in his chest –

-and if that was what the bonding was, Kirei would be quite content to be bonded - _to Harry_ \- indefinitely.

However, that raised more questions than answers yet again.

What did being Bonded - with a capital letter - actually mean? If the warmth was a positive effect, then the chest pain was absolutely negative one and Kirei didn't want to experience that particular episode ever again.

Especially when it meant that the pain he experienced was either the backlash of Harry's own injuries or their bond being damaged somewhat. Neither scenario was welcome at this point.

The priest's glare sharpened as he stared into some off point on the ceiling, his body not moving an inch, but his fingers still definitely twitching to strangle certain little brat's throat, to squeeze the last dregs of life out of that small, worryingly thin body.

He suppressed his instincts with a casual ease, noting to himself to gain some more information about the mess they had landed in now.

Brown eyes looked at Harry, who was still snoozing on Kuzuki's chest, and involuntarily softened a smidgen.

Even if Harry was an unintentionally big ball of trouble, Kirei wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

"We need more information." Kirei's words were calm and soft, but still managed to cause the four other occupants of the room tense even more. Kiritsugu was glaring at the little brat who was at the moment shamelessly using the still unconscious Harry as a shield against him - the kid knew damn well that Kiritsugu won't do anything violent in Harry's presence, but considering the Magus Killer's increasingly tense body and his eyes gaining the dark violet and red streaks, this option was becoming debatable by the minute.

"We could just up and leave." Kuzuki, the ever rational one, suggested, only for the small boy to clutch at Harry's hand and outright snarl at him, the tiny canines in his mouth glinting threateningly at the assassin, who returned the look with his own unimpressed one, causing the boy to bristle even more. Usually reddish brown eyes became more of on a red side, and there was this uncomfortable feeling getting straight raked against their proverbial fur again.

"You can't!" The small brat blurted out, amping up his glare in an effort to look even more intimidating. Unfortunately for him, his glare was just about as effective than one of a wet kitten.

"And why the hell not, brat?" Kiritsugu snarled back, practically towering over Xanxus, causing him to shrink back and hiss at him.

 _"Lui appartiene a me!"_

The assassins stilled at the bold declaration.

The nerve.

The sheer _nerve_ of the brat, saying that he owned _their_ Harry.

And then, those sickly reddish orange colors tried to - for the lack of better words - clumsily chain the beautiful golden orange ones to themselves - clumsily, mind you, but this was enough.

* * *

Xanxus was by no means a fool. Never. Ever. If you were a dumbass on the streets, then you were soon-to-be-dead-one.

However, Xanxus was also never in the situation to covet a single person for his own self so much.

When he had seen _turista_ \- Harry's - wounds, Xanxus couldn't hold the bile in his stomach. He had seen his fair share of violence on the street, but seeing Harry in such a state was something different, something that utterly turned his stomach and made his gut heavy with guilt.

 _He should have done more._

 _He should have been stronger._

 _Harry shouldn't have bargained for his safety with himself as a bargaining chip._

The priest eyed him, unimpressed, and then he was unceremoniously made to sit on the chair in a corner while both the assassin who had carried Harry back to their home base and the priest took care of Harry's back.

The wounds on the slender, still too skinny back, were horrific. It was more of a raw slob of meat than back at the given point, the cloying scent of blood hanging in the air like some kind of sickly, but expensive perfume.

Thankfully Harry wasn't conscious for the procedure, because the assassin had done something to get him under, and then, the two carefully cleaned the back as much as they could with the pieces of the linen that had been torn to the towel size for convenience. The two were so very gentle, but the cloth still sipped up an alarming amount of blood nevertheless, causing the two to exchange worried glances before the priest had done … something.

He placed his hands on the middle of Harry's back, disregarding Xanxus' shocked hiss and then, a soft whitish blue light began to emanate from them, slowly changing into a gentle yellow light, like one of the faintest sunlight pouring through the window.

It was warmth of the sun, coaxing the new growth out of the soil to unfurl their fragile green leaves. It was the new day, being born anew.

And slowly - oh so slowly - the fragile glow spread across Harry's back, illuminating the horrifically abused flesh in all of its miserable glory, before it began to sink into the flesh, between cells, strands of muscle, flesh and almost non-existent fat like a river of blessings.

Xanxus didn't know how long did the procedure last - there was no clock to tell the time by in the room, but the results in the end spoke for themselves. Instead of gory meat, there was a giant, albeit fragile scab covering Harry's back, which was then additionally treated by the assassin who had carried Harry - Kuzuki or something - with some kind of a foul smelling ointment that nearly made Xanxus gag with its potency, but Kirei, even pale with exhaustion and as drenched with sweat as he was, didn't mind the scent, and instead helped the man to wrap Harry's upper torso in bandages Kiritsugu had retrieved for that exact purpose.

They somehow managed to change the bed sheets while both Kirei and Kuzuki took a quick wash to get rid of the blood and grime staining their bodies, their faces drawn with exhaustion and effort, Kirei's more so, considering it took much out of him to heal Harry to even such an extend he had.

"You've used all of them?" Kiritsugu's voice was scratchy, his query aimed to the gray-eyed assassin who nodded mutely, prompting Kiritsugu to nod back sharply as he reached for the mobile phone on the table and quickly unlocking it before typing in something. That done, the phone was then tossed back to the table with an uncaring clatter, much to Xanxus' confusion.

"Good. It's done, then." Kiritsugu's announcement was received with twin grim nods.

Now, all they needed to do was to curl up in the bed along Harry, and heavens help anyone foolish enough to intrude on their place of rest.

Xanxus though to question Kiritsugu was the last thing he had done, but he was so very sleepy, the tiredness making his bones feel heavy like lead, and his eyelids were no better.

When he snuggled against Harry, his hand on Harry's stomach, feeling that reassuring warmth and breath, Xanxus swore to himself that nobody - and nothing - would part him from his Harry again.

He would become strong - stronger than the weird priest or the assassin or that gunman and then…

Xanxus drifted into a deep sleep, his mind conjuring the pleasant visions of future, him on the top of the world with Harry at his side.

* * *

 _Oh **hell** no_. This was the _absolute_ last straw.

And the one to reach the end of the patience, was surprisingly, Kiritsugu himself.

Kirei had moved, too, but in this instance, Kiritsugu was faster than the priest.

Xanxus yelped when he had been grabbed by the scruff of his neck like an unruly puppy, his grip on Harry's hand slackening with shock. The next thing he had felt was him being bent over someone's knee and then an unforgiving sting of pain on his butt.

And then another.

Xanxus jerked, his eyes huge as saucers when he finally comprehended what was happening.

He was being spanked!

"OOWWW! _Che cavolo_ -OW!" he yelped, rather loudly, and yelped again when the sting increased.

"No cursing." Kiritsugu's voice was flat, when he delivered another smack. Xanxus' mouth opened to protest and his face was comically horrified before he cringed at yet another spank delivered on his behind.

 _"Sei bastar_ -AH!" The curse ended in a pained yelp.

"No trying to own people." Another three spanks, causing Xanxus to squirm in his lap unhappily, practically growling at the man. Kiritsugu, however, didn't care.

"Stupidity is prohibited. If we tell you to _stay put…"_ _Smack._ Xanxus' breath hitched when the pain flared even stronger than before.

"Then you _stay put_." _Smack._

"No using guns without supervision." Five smacks that one, and Xanxus had to bite his lip to not cry out with pain. His behind was a flaring, throbbing mess of an agony right now - Kiritsugu may have not seemed so, but the bastard was strong and he didn't hold back with disciplining Xanxus. Despite all his best efforts, Xanxus' eyes still watered and he scrunched his face.

"And Xanxus?" Kiritsugu's voice was so very mild, but it struck a terror in the deepest corners of the small boy's heart."

"Harry -" _Smack._

"Is – " _Smack._

"Not – " _Smack._

"Yours." _Smack._

Kiritsugu's voice was, despite his fierce smacks even, almost casual. But this casualty was what made it even worse than if the Magus Killer would've been completely apoplectic.

The assassin paused, eying the trembling boy laid across his lap critically. Xanxus' little hands were balled into fists, the tips of his ears were red and he was shaking, his breaths hitching every now and then, as if holding back the tears that tried - and failed to get out.

"Am I understood?"

* * *

Kirei watched the spectacle with a fascinated glint in his eye. Never would he have thought that Kiritsugu would have it in him to discipline the little brat like so - and he was both disappointed that he wasn't the one to mete out the punishment and intrigued at Kiritsugu's chosen method and how it affected their little hanger-on.

The little boy's face, however much he saw it, was beet red, his lips bitten and those unique reddish-brown eyes liquid with the tears he was holding back by the sheer force of will. And instead of that mulishly stubborn face, he had an expression of shock and pain, like he couldn't believe that this humiliation happened to him of all people. Kiritsugu wasn't exactly gentle in exacting his retribution for the boy's mess up of their original operation.

The boy growled and then yowled like a young tiger when another smack landed on his behind, firm and uncompromising.

"I believe your ears and mind are in a working order, brat." Kiritsugu was unrelenting, not even wavering under the watery glare he got when Xanxus squirmed so to look up at him.

The boy bit his lip, holding back the curses that were undoubtedly burning in the back of his throat. Kirei couldn't help but impressed - that glare of brat's could send some of the lesser demons running without problem. Imagine what could he do when he grew some actual teeth…

"Yes… sir." The boy ground out, wiggling expectantly to be let loose Kiritsugu's hold, but the Magus Killer was unng.

"Yes, what?"

Empty black orbs stared into the reddish brown ones until the later lowered in submission.

"N-No cursing." This one was hard for Xanxus, and it would be almost funny that the usually loose-tongued brat stuttered, but Kiritsugu only nodded, staring at him expectantly.

Huffing, Xanxus folded his arms in front of him and looking away from his tormentor.

"No owning people." Kirei almost heard the crossed fingers in that one. The boy apparently didn't have any intention on following this rule… and the priest almost looked forward to the fallout. Almost.

The petulant growl forming the boy's throat was abruptly cancelled whern Kiritsugu warningly lifted his arm.

"N-No being stupid." There, he said it.

"And?" Kiritsugu's eyebrows arched, clearly expecting the boy to continue, while Xanxus did all he could to delay it.

"No using guns without supervision." This time, Xanxus had his brat face back fully, causing Kiritsugu to glare at him, causing him to make a small _eep_ sound.

"And don't you ever forget that one. Your shooting was a disgrace to gunmen everywhere." Kiritsugu's voice lost some of it's aloofness and even Kirei stepped back a step at the look on Kiritsugu's face.

"Either learn to shot well or don't shot at all. Next."

That quip made Xanxus' wide eyes even larger. He obviously didn't expect Kiritsugu to reason his little rule, and in the way he had.

"Harry… Is not mine." That made the boy shrank back, as if wounded and if Kirei could, he would feel pity at his pathetic form. But he didn't.

Small brat or not, it was wise of him to learn where the borders concerning Harry and him were. Because Harry was, first and foremost, _theirs,_ and not of some little street urchin.

(Even if Kirei had a nagging feeling Harry wouldn't feel the same.)

"Correct." He nodded at Xanxus who jerked as if shocked, his reddish brown eyes looking at him with fear and apprehension. Apparently the boy completely forgot that he had an audience in his little punishment.

Empty brown eyes looked as the Magus Killer helped the boy straighten out from his lap, the boy stumbling bit and hissing with pain, but he stood up, even if his legs were wobbling a bit what with the bolts of pain zinging through his behind.

"What you did, was stupid, unreasonable and got in danger not only you, but also Harry. What would you have done if we all failed in completing the mission?"

Xanxus' opened, no doubt to spit out some scathing retort, but nothing left his mouth as he thought over the priest's question.

"There was a reason Kiritsugu had to get as much information as possible. Freccia, despite what you saw, was not weak." Kirei continued to lecture the boy, who flushed, but scowled anyway as if the scowl would cover his embarrassment.

"They were trashes and they had Harry." He mumbled mutinously, earning a light head cuff from Kiritsugu for his cheek. "And I had to help."

"Kid. You don't have any training for such occasions." This time, it was Kuzuki who spoke out, dark grey eyes serious as they pierced Xanxus' little defense, causing the boy to step back.

"We are assassins. We are killers, murderers and we knew what we were getting ourselves into. You, on the other hand, are just a kid." Xanxus' eyes flared wide with outrage at Kuzuki's declaration.

"I am _not_ a kid, dammit!" He spat, snarling at the assassin.

"But you are, and you are no killer. Believe me; it's not as glamorous as it seems to be." Kiritsugu interrupted their little stare off, his voice tired. "You meant your best, but there's difference between intentions and abilities, and your abilities sadly lacked in this regard. Do us a favor and keep your nose clean. We won't be always here to mop up after your blunders!"

The snapped out order caused Xanxus to recoil back as if slapped. Kiritsugu would regret his words, but the brat already ran to the door, opened them, and a slam later, he was running away, his hurried steps a little bit faltering every now and then as he tried to adjust his gait not to cause the pain in his bottom to flare anew every few seconds.

"You… were kind of harsh there, don't you think?" A weak voice rose from the direction of the bed, causing the three assassins to automatically jerk into the direction it came from.

And there he was, Harry, still deathly pale, with huge eye bags under his eyes, smiling at Kiritsugu bemusedly.

"H-Harry!" Kiritsugu spluttered his eyes comically wide with shock and the tips of his own ears adorably red in his embarrassment.

* * *

"You were awake." Kirei's low voice was soothing to Harry's ears. The priest was the one to hold vigil at Harry's bed right now, considering that Kuzuki had to get the materials for the new batch of the ointment and Kiritsugu had to go out for food, both reluctantly parting from their friend and Kirei had partaken in many threatening glares to do right by Harry in theme or else.

Harry chuckled, his voice still scratchy, but a whole lot better than when they got him out of the confinement.

"Of course." He affectionately squeezed Kirei's hand, causing those usually blank eyes to warm up a fraction and the squeeze to be returned.

"But why?" Kirei persisted.

Harry's amused smile turned bittersweet and self-recriminating. "Kiritsugu did a good thing. There's no need for kids playing stupid heroes, especially when they lack the means to do so." The sight in his eyes was brittle, as he was clearly reminiscing on his own adventures. "This time, he survived by sheer dumb luck and you two acting as his backup. And what of the next one?"

Kirei kept silent, but nodded in understanding. Even if Xanxus was a street brat and thus undoubtedly in possession of a better understanding of the world as most of people, that still didn't mean he couldn't get himself in troubles way over his head, the latest debacle with Freccia one such example. If he hadn't been firmly stopped when the bigger troubles were still ahead, then he would've done something equally as stupid but with much, much bigger consequences - and this time, with nobody to save his skinny ass.

"But he said you were his." It didn't mean to slip past Kirei's lips, but this little fact still bothered him so.

Green eyes widened with delighted surprise, and then, Harry laughed.

"Oh, Kirei," Kirei's most precious person said, smiling, even if there were tears of amusement in the corners of his eyes.

"Kids do say the darndest things."

Kirei frowned, not understanding. "But you are mine - well, ours, "He amended, thinking of his two fellow assassins.

"And I am still yours and I will keep being as such." Harry explained to him patiently. "He probably thought of me like some kind of a big brother or something."

 _Or something._

Kirei had a nagging feeling that the little brat (Xanxus,) got the latter in mind and not the former, like Harry, innocent as he was, presumed of him to have.

He shooed the feeling in the back of his mind and nodded. "Or something." He acquiesced, but he still had that sinking feeling in the gut that the brat wouldn't let Harry go without a pretty hard fight on his side.

And Harry, poor, clueless, innocent Harry, unaware of the little liger cub he had unknowingly adopted into his mismatched band of … whatever they were now, smiled at Kirei that special little smile, like he did when they were young.

(Kirei swore to guard Harry and keep his innocent best friend far away from the greedy cup… and also to rope both Kiritsugu and Kuzuki in his scheme. Quietly so, that Harry wouldn't have any inkling on the cold war running behind his back.)

* * *

"Teach me." Flat dark eyes looked into the burning reddish brown ones as Xanxus approached the Magus Killer. Xanxus' bottom still smarted - fiercely so- - from the thrashing Kiritsugu had doled on it five hours before, and judging by the heat, it won't abate anytime soon.

And if Xanxus were smarter, he would have turned tail and run far away from the batshit scary assassin, as far and as fast as he could.

But Xanxus - last name unknown - could not be counted among the average, sane people. And having seen Kiritsugu wield the guns like god of death, each shot hitting the target on the spot, Xanxus couldn't think of anyone who would be more appropriate to teach him how to be stronger.

"You don't want me to teach you, brat." The young Magus Killer responded, his eyes flickering back to his deader than a door-nail target.

Deader than a door-nail in about five minutes, if the brat wouldn't cease to bother him with whining about Kiritsugu to teach him how to man the guns. For the gods' sake, the brat was only slightly bigger than his sniper rifle, and the recoil of even the smallest gun in his hands would be ridiculously strong!

He must have said that aloud, because the said brat scowled. "I do. Teach me."

Stubborn. So stubborn.

Kiritsugu sweat-dropped. Somehow, he got a feeling that no matter how much he tried, the little brat would follow him and keep nagging them until he either killed him or got insane with his yapping.

But on the other hand… His mind flashed to the scene of this same brat being an utter embarrassment to the gunners everywhere.

His lips stretched into a smile, and by Xanxus' wary step back, and wide eyes, it wasn't any kind of warm, nice one.

On the contrary, it was slightly unhinged and darkly malicious with a smidgen of amusement thrown in.

Maybe this could be even _fun._

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _If Verde hated anything, it was unfinished business. Experiments without definite conclusions were the worst. And he just had that kid of a feeling when third new power stepped in the undergrounds' proverbial light. Unobtrusive, harmless looking, and completely forgettable, to the point it actually unnerved the scientist. They reminded him of animals that could camouflage themselves so well they practically blended with their surroundings… if it weren't for the subtle sense of wrongness that scrapped at the Lightning Arcobaleno's brain._

 _They were a puzzle with half of its pieces missing, an unsolvable Rubix cube – when he had thought he had them figured out, there was something new –_ _'wrong' – his mind supplied – and he had to begin to work anew._


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own characters, MJ's awesome song and grammar jumping around.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ You lovely, lovely people. Thank you. Really, it's kind of a gift to come home from the late shift and then see your thought on this little story of mine. I was kind of torn in which direction to take the story, because two reviewers pointed out possible scenarios that made me almost cry with frustration which one to choose. However I will write it my way as intended to before getting those reviews and hope you will stick along for long enough to enjoy the utter chaos, panic and disorder Harry and his loyal little assassins would spread wherever and whenever they will go. I am seriously thinking on doing omakes for the 'verses I am not going to write in the entirety, because your ideas are Just. That. Damn. Good. And on which flames belong to who, it will be revealed in the next chapter.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, moral dilemmas - don't say I didn't warn ya - Xanxus being a brat, yes, _again,_ and Harry's no Sherlock. Oh, and Kuzuki _is_ Soichiro.

* * *

 _You have to show them that you're really not scared  
You're playin' with your life, this ain't no truth or dare  
They'll kick you, then they beat you, then they'll tell you it's fair  
So beat it, but you wanna be bad_

 _('Beat It' by Michael Jackson)_

* * *

Neither of the three assassins were happy with the bratty addition called Xanxus. Well, Kiritsugu got sadistic amusement about his plan of 'training' the kid, and Kirei even contemplated to join the forces with him, if only to see more of those deliciously helplessly suffering expressions full of anger on the brat's face.

It was also a priceless moment when the brat tried to curse, only to be whacked by Hedwig's wing.

Apparently the snowy owl decided to make Xanxus her second chick along with her most often occupied human-shaped roost - she was always perched either on the boy's head or one of his shoulders - and every time Xanxus' mouthy habit of cursing up a storm tried to make an appearance, she whacked him, much to his exasperation and everyone else's amusement.

What peeved off Xanxus the most was that the owl didn't whack either Kirei or Kiritsugu for calling him brat or kid.

That feathery little traitor.

(And she seemingly knew when he was insulting her in his head, giving him that special stare that made him halt his inner litany of word abuse about her screech to a halt.

Sharp beak and even sharper talons with that ' _I'm gonna gut you if you dare to think that again,'_ stare would do that to anyone.

But…

 _How did she know!?)_

Really, they were free of Xanxus only at night, when the kid reluctantly left Harry's side to go back to his old haunt to sleep there, much to the tree assassins' quiet relief and Harry's concern. Xanxus' clothes weren't the best and Harry could only imagine just what kind of rat hole his unofficial protégé was living in, but it was Xanxus' decision, and so Harry resigned himself to not push that particular envelope too far.

And there was still the issue of them moving forward sooner than later. Vatican was waiting, and the only reason they haven't moved on yet was because Harry had to recuperate first.

The city was still buzzing from the terrorist attack on one of their most respected citizens, and the magical side was no better. So it was best - at least for now - to hunker down and weather the storm his three friends had inadvertently caused by rescuing him.

But still… there was the issue of this Sky business. He could see that it bugged Kirei something fierce, and knowing his friend, Kirei won't rest until he would get the answers, one way or another.

Xanxus scowled. He just knew that the three bastards that called themselves Harry's friends were against him! If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Hedwig was also somehow maneuvered into keeping him away from Harry, but the bird got along with the three of them slightly less better than it did with Xanxus, and that made him feel smug for some reason.

Really, it was kind of pathetic to lord over the trio that he was Hedwig's chick and thus in her good graces, while the three of them were apparently still on her to watch out for radar. But Xanxus was one petty child, and he would take whatever he could get in that instance.

Of course, his little pack wondered why did an owl attach itself to him, but they soon got used to seeing Xanxus with an owl either on his shoulder on the top of his head – the last one was pretty much a topic of amusement for everyone knowing Xanxus and his penchant of 'no touchie' policy, which one raptor bird smoothly ignored, as if it didn't exist… and also bossed their little boss into no cursing.

And there were those rumors. Rumors about the four terrifyingly strong assassins who attacked Freccia's stronghold and collapsing their fortress on their heads. Whenever Xanxus heard them mention _Vittoria_ , he wanted to puff out his chest and loudly declare that he was there.

That _he_ was Vittoria in question. But that would open a whole lot of other uncomfortable questions which would lead to even more questionable answers and yeah, no. No matter how much Xanxus was desperate to build his street creed, he wasn't _that_ dumb to claim the benefits of something he was, at best, only on the very fringes of.

Besides, if he dared to do that, he had a feeling that Armaggedon would be a walk in the park in comparison what Harry's three scary protectors would do to him in exchange. So no _braggadocio_ business for Xanxus. Not if he wanted to keep his life, however short and miserable it was.

Instead, he sulkily skulked through the streets on his way to return home to check up on his mother.

The relationship between the two had been ever-straining since Xanxus more or less understand the rules of the world. She was a poor woman, with barely passable knowledge on how to read or write, and her rants about Xanxus being a special little boy that would someday be something great, and the feverish light in her eyes when she was telling him that…

At first, her tales gave some hope to Xanxus. To get out of this hellhole, somehow, someday and some way - she was awfully secretive on how exactly did she think to accomplish that - and Xanxus , when growing up, he got tired of her fancy tales. Of hearing that his father was an important - very important person, who was also very strong and kind.

If he was so strong and kind, Xanxus once asked her, then why didn't he come after them and take them with him back to his fancy house and life?

Her face, already so very drawn and pinched with exhaustion - work in fabric and illness didn't give her any favors and she hunched into herself, and this was the only instance Xanxus felt guilty about confronting her. She looked crushed, like a small, human-shaped moth that was already unremarkable and burnt out by the light, but still trying to crawl on, to reach this brightness that shone so prettily but killing her all the same.

So very ordinary looking - dark hair in twin ponytails, and with brown shawl over her head, dirty white blouse and brown skirt, and her face aged - aged much too harshly only her eyes, dark and bright and feverish with hope, even as hurt as they were, those beautiful eyes, shone like dying stars.

(Xanxus barely remembered her laughing freely and singing to him and showing him the wide expanse of Toscana before they moved into that smelly and dirty hole in the wall of the uncaringly cold, yet rich and old city where she hoped to build a better fortune for Xanxus. And flames. But Xanxus could be a firefighter anywhere, why did they have to leave their former home? It wasn't anything luxurious but it was way better than this ratty thing they owned now.)

The trek he wanted to last for eternity, turned out to be surprisingly short, even with him consciously taking the longer route than usual. He had no wish to bear her rants and accolades again. He loved her, but really…her sense of reality was becoming more and more skewed by the day.

Silently, as not to wake her up, he tried to unlatch the door, but of course, his luck was Just. That. Damn. Bad.

"Where were you, boy!"

His mother's sharp, weary voice snapped out at him, and Xanxus had to force himself to flinch.

"Out. With my friends. That's not a crime now, is it?" He replied, a little bit heatedly as he glared at the woman leaning at the door frame heavily.

"And you didn't even think to tell me? _Dio mio,_ what would I do if you were involved with those Freccia thugs, huh?" Her dark, sunken eyes glared at him, and this time, Xanxus cringed.

"I am _fine,_ woman!" He snapped back. But still, her guess was unnervingly close to the truth. "Besides, why the fuck would I tangle with those _idiota?_ I am not stupid enough to go borrow any trouble before getting that flame-thingy you are always speaking of."

That made her stern face soften a little. "Oh. Of course." Her thin shoulders sagged with relief, and Xanxus felt a bit of guilt for misleading her. Despite her weird way of thinking, she was a good woman and Xanxus ought to –

"Just remember. Your flames are your ticket to better life, _piccolo."_ She smiled at him, that soft, slightly vacant smile as she shooed him forward. "Tell me, have you eaten? Maria was kind enough to give me half of a week day old bread and some cheese she managed to get off Allegra." Her mouth tightened in a small moue of disapproval - Xanxus didn't know at which one of the girls, but he didn't care, either.

"I am not very hungry. Honest. Keep those for you, I know you haven't eaten much." His voice was gruff as he ducked his head, trying to sneak past her, only to stiffen when he was tugged into a small hug.

"Xanxus… This is only temporary. You will see. Just make those flames, and when you do…" Her voice became more erratic and breathy as she tightened her hold on him, the smells of textile factory with a small undertone of sunshine under the thick miasma of sickness enveloped Xanxus, causing him to mentally cringe. It was a nauseating, ugly scent, a scent of suffering but yet, unconditional love.

Hesitantly he brought his arms up and thought to tell her about Harry, about how he thought he, Xanxus, could be so much more, could be useful -

-but his throat tightened for some reason, not allowing the words to pass through his vocal chords, and his eyelids lowered in guilt and self-recrimination, _why the hell wasn't he stronger yet_ -

"Okay, _mamma._ Whatever you say." The scents of mold, stale air, dirt and rotten wood from their surroundings cloaked them within their invisible shroud, silently mocking their hopes.

* * *

"Are you serious?"

Kiritsugu would have bristled at the question, but the fact was, Kirei was right. Even he didn't know what the fuck was going through his head when he said that this bratty pain in his behind would be his apprentice.

If he could get back in time, he would've pistol-whipped his foolish past self.

"He shames gunners everywhere. If Natalia would've been here, she would – "He abruptly cut himself off, not wanting to go here. Not now. The wounds from his mentor's passing were still too fresh to make easy of.

Three months.

Three months since he had personally gunned her down, with an airplane full of passengers infected to become Ghouls…. Along with Natalia. Three months since essentially killing the closest person he had to a mother since he had been parted from Harry.

Three months since that all too clinical goodbye, since watching the disaster in the air unfolding from the shape of an airplane into the one of a flaming ball of gas encompassing the unlucky passengers, screaming down to the ocean in a blaze of fiery death, taking his dreams of being a hero of justice with it.

 _What rights did he have, to make another person's hands as bloody as his own?_

"You know you will have to leave him behind." Kirei's voice, calm and indifferent, floated to his ears as the priest leaned against the same fence he was leaning on, staring down at the evening hustle and bustle of the streets below.

Dark brown, emotionless eyes flicked at him, before looking over the horizon, the priest annoyingly calm as cucumber in the face of Kiritsugu's plight. Irritated, Kiritsugu ruffled his hair, black strands rustling in the evening wind.

"I _know!"_ He snapped out, peeved. The fucking priest was being the voice of reason, which didn't help any in alleviating his already heavy guilt in his chest. "But the brat is here to stay, and I would feel much better if he weren't such a fucking liability like he had been the last time!" He exhaled, frustrated, sorely wishing for a cigarette to calm himself down.

"He is still a civilian." Kirei continued, and that made Kiritsugu actually growl at the priest.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, captain." Kiritsugu's sarcasm was so tangible it could be almost tasted in the evening air. "But he was already involved, this little incident only proves it further." Dark eyebrows quirked aggressively as he turned his head to glare at the priest. "An you dare to give me that bullshit about no killing. You and I know it's a bull."

Kirei sighed. "Harry would oppose." Three words. Three damn words, and damn if they didn't screech any plans Kiritsugu had in works to a burning halt. His shoulders sagged. That was an irrefutable argument and both sides knew Kiritsugu would lose that one. Chuckling helplessly, Kiritsugu dragged his palm across his face, suddenly feeling much too old for his eighteen years.

"Of course he would." He agreed. And that was the gist of his concerns. He already dreaded Harry's reaction when his green-eyed friend would find out what exactly Kiritsugu intended to teach his little one. Harry's own troubles with law aside, Kiritsugu had a feeling Harry would straight out murder him for dragging another innocent - and a kid at that - into the mess and then having the balls to justify that learning shooting would be as good practice of self-defense as any.

A helpless silence reigned between the duo, before Kiritsugu spoke again, his words heavy with resignation.

"I am fucked, aren't I?"

He felt a heavy hand pat his back, the sting on his skin almost welcome counterpoint to his mood, however punishing it was.

"Good luck." Two words, as sincere as they sounded, were also so very insincere it almost hurt to hear them, and then, Kirei left him on the balcony, with a smarting back as a parting gift.

Kiritsugu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But maybe a smoke or two would help with his nerves before confronting Harry in his entire momma dragon glory.

 _'Good luck',_ indeed.

* * *

Harry sighed. There was a tension between Kirei and Kiritsugu and for once, it didn't have to do anything with their usual antagonistic tendencies towards each other. It was more like, Kirei silently forcing Kiritsugu to be open about something, and Kiritsugu being recalcitrant on the issue. Kuzuki - or Soichiro, as the gray-eyed assassin asked to be called - wasn't included in their silent spat, and was just as much at a loss about the subject of the tension between them.

But enough was enough. Harry had waited - patiently, mind you - for two days before he decided to intervene.

The intervention in question was fairly simple.

The four of them nestled together into the bed, Kuzuki - _Soichiro_ , Harry reminded himself - being Harry's human mattress, while Kirei and Kiritsugu occupied left and right side, the three thus semi-encircling Harry. The ex-wizard was sleepy - Kirei's healing session fifteen minutes before made him fairly drowsy, but he wasn't about to let go of the issue just because of a tiny bit sleepiness getting in his way.

"Kirei, Kiritsugu. Can I _\- yawn -_ ask you two something?" Harry asked, his eyesight blurring out as he already had the glasses of his nose, courtesy of Soichiro's helpful assistance.

"By all means." Kiritsugu answered distractedly, while Kirei hummed an agreeing hum.

"Are you trying to tell me you two are dating?" The innocent question was finally out ad about. Kuzuki wheezed with surprise, but that was nothing in comparison with the reactions of the two culprits at Harry's sides.

"WHA – ouch!" Kiritsugu was startled enough to fall off the bed, while Kirei almost shot up into a sitting position, his brown eyes for once correctly expressing the shock he felt at Harry's supposition.

Kiritsugu hurriedly clawed up and back onto the bed, his eyes huge with horror. "Harry! How could you ever think I would be doing anything with that - that - " He pointed at the still shell-shocked priest mutely, his hair even worse mess than usual.

It was Harry's turn to be embarrassed. "Well, what am I supposed to think, then?" He shot back, feeling his cheeks heat further with embarrassment. "There was a tension between you two, you don't speak to each other at all and you two are driving me bonkers!" He burst out, glaring at both of them, but refusing to back down.

"I am not, and will never be in an amorous relationship with this idiot." Kirei was pretty concise on the issue. That earned him Kiritsugu's crankiest glare, but Kirei only glared back at him. "In fact, I would sooner kiss _Dementor_ than him."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh, be relieved or just disappear six feet under with embarrassment. "But why are you two so…." He made a helpless gesture, his cheeks still blazing hot from the utter mortification he was still experiencing. "I don't have anything against you two if you were..." He trailed off, realizing that he was just digging himself even deeper hole of shame.

"I was just helping him with solving a small dilemma." Kirei smoothly replied, completely ignoring Kiritsugu's petulant mumble of "A _small_ dilemma, my ass, "

"In fact, why don't you let him tell you?" the priest didn't have any compunctions of throwing the Magus Killer under the proverbial bus. Especially not when he was the reason why Harry assumed that the two were in a relationship when they clearly weren't.

That zeroed Harry's attention on Kiritsugu, who was now squirming under that bleary-eyed, all too adorable green glare.

 _'Kirei'_ Kiritsugu concluded mentally, _'is an utter dick.'_

And he would _so_ get him for this one.

One day. Someday… soon. When that dick of a priest would expect his revenge the least. Yeah, that was it.

Now to weather the Harry-storm coming his way.

He gulped and tried to keep his squirming on minimum…

"Uhm. It's about training Xanxus." He managed to get out.

Better to let that out in one shot, the more he delayed, the more trouble he would be in. Harry was never then one to tolerate hedging and such when it came to trouble, anyway.

Sleepy green eyes blinked at him, confused.

"Yeah? I don't have any problems if you want to teach him self-defense." Harry sat up absentmindedly, causing a small huff from Soichiro when Harry sat directly on his lap in process, and in turn those wiry arms wrapped around Harry's waist, pressing him closer to Soichiro's body, not that Harry minded additional source of warmth.

Shaking his head, Kiritsugu face palmed, groaning as he dragged the palm down his face, in an attempt to delay eye contact with Harry. "Yeah, but… " He paused, visibly gathering himself to spit it out.

"You are thinking physical self-defense. I am talking guns."

Short, rude and to the point.

Silence ensued. All three assassins were tense in anticipation of Harry's explosion.

To teach a what - six years old kid - _guns?_ An utterly dumb and preposterous idea.

Harry inhaled. Mentally, Kiritsugu cringed, expecting fire and brimstone being hailed down on his head for this imbecilic idea. He carefully blanked his face out, preparing himself for the worst.

Green eyes stared black ones down, and the one winning in the stare-down wasn't the Magus Killer.

"Are you out of your goddamned _mind?"_ Harry's voice was soft and quiet but all four of them knew that this was only the beginning. "I really hope you have a one _hell_ of a reason for this idea of yours."

Green eyes, usually warm and welcoming, glared into black orbs coldly. Kiritsugu swallowed thickly, his own eyes wide with shock, however prepared had he been for it. This was a glare he never wanted to be on the receiving end of - Harry didn't glare at him much, and the last time he did, was when they were kids, and he was subjected to the much cuter and more harmless version then. Even then, Kiritsugu disliked making Harry upset in any way, but right now, he had really done the stupid.

He clenched his fists, his eyebrows furrowing as the anger began niggling in the back of his mind. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't." He retorted sharply, holding back a wince at Harry upping his glare again. But… Kiritsugu swallowed his anger.

"He is already involved." He continued as he rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "As you said, I could teach him self-defense. I would. And I will, too. But _look._ Isn't it better that he also knows how to handle guns instead of letting him flounder in the dark and possibly hurt not only himself but some innocent bystanders if there's a chance he gets into trouble again?"

His exhausted words didn't placate Harry much, but at least some of the tension in his body went away. Green eyes softening, Harry looked at the weary Magus Killer. At first, he was both shocked and irate at Kiritsugu's suggestion, Kiritsugu also made a worrying amount of sense. If Harry himself already had a lethal weapon at eleven years old when he was a wizard and barely escaped every year with his life intact, why shouldn't a six years old have a gun and vastly greater chances of survival if he was tutored by someone competent and reliable?

He exhaled, the sigh soft and long in the silent room. Both Kirei and Soichiro were quiet on the issue, aware that it was between Kiritsugu and Harry.

"Why are you so insistent on it? We could go to Vatican, leave him behind, and it wouldn't matter much. You all assured me that there was nobody alive who could identify you." It was Harry's time to play the devil's advocate, and by Kiritsugu's halfhearted glare and Kirei's impressed gaze, both of them knew that too.

"Could you forgive yourself leaving him behind just like that?" Harry scowled at the Magus Killer's question. Oh, Kiritsugu wasn't playing fair, either. Green eyes clashed with black once again, but Kiritsugu was steadfast. And by Harry's trembling mouth, he knew he was right.

Harry was just too damn soft-hearted, which was both his greatest asset and most damning flaw. And considering just what Harry had gone through when he had been in that mad world of magic, Kiritsugu knew that he wouldn't have wished his helplessness on anyone in similar situation and moreover, they were talking about a child.

A child, who could be exploited to an even greater degree than Harry himself had been. Kiritsugu didn't have any illusions, and Harry had been stripped of his own blinders very harshly.

But that didn't make decision any easier.

"You are not playing fair." Harry accused the black-eyed assassin. Kiritsugu nodded, but didn't say anything else. It would be Harry's decision first and foremost whether or not he would allow for Xanxus to be taught how to handle guns.

Harry slumped and suddenly looked all the more fragile for it. "I am afraid that something would go wrong." He admitted quietly, his eyes troubled. "I know that you would do all in your power to keep him safe, but one misstep on his side, and then what? As you pointed out, we can't always be with him to drag him out of trouble." He murmured, defeated.

"I think you are not giving Xanxus his due." This time, it was Soichiro who spoke out, startling both Harry and Kiritsugu out of their stare-fest. "Xanxus is a street brat. He had to grow up quickly, no matter how much of a child he looks like." Gray eyes looked into green ones as Harry turned his head to look at the until then silent assassin. "He knows that guns are not toys. Even if he is a little hot-headed, I am sure Emiya would stamp it out of him pretty quickly. And you are right, maybe he will need the knowledge, maybe he won't. But in any case, it's better that we teach him correctly even if he never uses the knowledge, than if he finds himself in a dangerous situation and knowing nothing about how to protect himself."

"There's no 100 percent safety." Kirei also felt the need to speak his piece, causing Harry's gaze to shift to himself. "If I could give you that kind of guarantee, I would. But I can't. We can only prepare him for the worst and hope for the best."

Shaking his head with exasperation, Harry groaned. "You guys. I was under impression you all didn't like Xanxus. What is with you all gunning to teach him?" He accused them, his lips quirking into half-amused, half-aggravated smirk. "Don't you all realize that with teaching him, he would be around us more or less all the time we are here?" He slumped back against Soichiro abruptly, causing the older teen to grunt with the impact. His smirk widened when both Kirei and Kiritsugu gained some very impressive glares as that little fact computed in their brain. Harry didn't know why, but both of them were a pair of cranky campers when it concerned their newest and littlest, semi-temporary member. It was amusing, because Xanxus had done everything to aggravate them, and of course, both of them were childish enough to try and aggravate him back.

Of course, they didn't think Harry noticed that, but it was one of the few amusements Harry had when he was bound to a bed rest, and he wasn't inclined to illuminate them of the issue anytime soon.

Kiritsugu gave him an innocent look, but coupled with a wolfish grin stretching his lips, the look wasn't convincing at all, dark eyes gleaming in anticipation. "Who says we are doing that out of the goodness of our hearts?"

Harry's eyebrows climbed high on his forehead. Suddenly, he really pitied his tiny teacher of Italian. With those three on his case, it was either survival of whatever they would threw at him or go bust.

"I don't know whether to congratulate him for landing you three for his teachers or pity him for the exact same reason." He finally said, bemused, before he got serious again. "But before you do let loose hell on him, do ask him if he actually wants to be taught whatever you three want to teach him."

Kiritsugu's answering grin was all kinds of unholy, and Kirei was almost in the same category, even if he didn't express it so freely. The atmosphere in the room lightened, prompting Kiritsugu to reach for Harry's hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

"Don't worry, the brat will be in one piece. Maybe a little bit whinier at the beginning, but he'll survive." He reassured Harry, his heart now light as a feather now that he got a green light to tortu - ahem, _train_ the scrawny upstart to his heart's content.

"That's what I am afraid of." Harry's reply was dry enough to make Sahara desert jealous as he curled himself on Soichiro's chest, causing the assassin holding him to faintly flush with their proximity.

The issue having been resolved, the four of them went to sleep, and if Kiritsugu let out a tiny cackle or two, it was best not to be mentioned anytime soon.

* * *

(Meanwhile the brat in question stiffened, feeling like someone dumped his spine into liquid nitrogen, so cold he suddenly felt. His intuition screeched in alarm, but whatever it tried to warn him from, Xanxus had the feeling it was sadly bound to happen sooner rather than later… and he wouldn't like it. And why, oh why was he reminded of his fellow Riders of Apocalypse when the shudders ran down his spine?)

* * *

The atmosphere, when Xanxus came to Harry's lodge the next morning, was surprisingly cheery. Of course, that immediately made Xanxus go on defensive. He was so used to the three assassins to deem him a third wheel, it was more than a bit disconcerting that he was suddenly eyed like he was a prime steak in front of the starving wolves. The only one who was marginally sane that auspicious morning was Harry, and even he only watched the three with the kind of exasperated amusement. Thankfully he let Xanxus snuggle against him when the boy searched for a live shield from those three whackos that termed themselves Harry's friends.

The breakfast was relatively light - black coffee for Kiritsugu and tea for Kirei, Harry and Soichiro, while Xanxus elected to drink cold milk. It was kind of a tiny luxury he could afford only rarely, and because of that, even more precious. The conversation was relatively light, Kirei speaking about his plans to visit the old priest, Kiritsugu didn't anything special to do and Kuzuki wanted to visit some art gallery or another. Nothing noteworthy, but Harry still tried to include Xanxus into the talk, with more or less success.

Croissants and grapes with yogurt made appearance and they were just as swiftly packed in hungry stomachs, before Harry leaned back in the fluffy pillow, careful not to aggravate the back wounds, looking at Xanxus with a kind smile, but his eyes were serious.

Xanxus' spine involuntarily straightened in response, all of his attention zeroed on the green-eyed teen.

If Harry was serious, then it was bound to be something big.

"Xanxus, my friends a very important question for you." Harry began, eyebrows furrowing lightly in concern. "This is for you to decide, and I will accept you no matter what you want." Xanxus nodded, his face, so serious was kind of cute. Harry wanted to coo and snuggle him, but he refrained. Instead, he continued. "This offer is one time only. If you say yes, this is a commitment. If you say no, we won't bother you with it. Ever."

Xanxus frowned as he played with the small croissant, folding it even further into a tiny ball. He had a weird habit to get the croissants and then pack them in tight balls before chomping down on them like they were some kind of a doughy apples. "Pinky promise?" He asked, biting his lip, his finger dancing over the folds of the croissants in a gesture that would, on anyone else, be called nervous.

Harry smiled at him, causing Xanxus' heart to brighten as the green-eyed teen offered him a pinky. "Pinky promise." Harry said solemnly, causing Xanxus to reach out to seal the promise with his own pinky.

After a shake, Harry became serious again. "Will you listen to them?" Eyeing the three assassins sitting around Harry's bed warily, Xanxus nodded.

"Brat." Xanxus glared at Kiritsugu, not liking how the Magus Killer addressed him. He remained silent, however. This was Something Big, and Xanxus intended to find out just what it was.

"We - that is, I, Kirei and Kuzuki - decided to teach you self-defense in the meantime we are here." Kiritsugu scowled a little, before his eyes zeroed back onto Xanxus with a frightening intensity as he leaned forward, causing Xanxus to barely fight the impulse to lean back.

"You said you want to learn guns." This time, Kiritsugu couldn't help but grimace for a moment, before his face smoothed out again. Xanxus bristled at the interplay of feelings on the young man's face, but even he had to admit that he wasn't exactly a stellar gunner from the get go. It had been pure dumb luck he hadn't done a friendly fire on Kiritsugu, and that was a near thing!

"I can teach you." The offer was short and simple, making Xanxus narrow his eyes.

There was something fishy about it. At first, Kiritsugu had walloped him good because he dared to use guns, and now, he was offering to teach him how to shoot?

"Why?" He asked, still frowning, as he crossed his arms on the chest stubbornly. No matter how awesome it would be to be a God of Guns, like Kiritsugu was, what reason did the scruffy assassin even _have_ to teach _Xanxus_ of all people?

"It's not you, it's us." Kirei was the next one to calmly pick up where Kiritsugu left off, causing Xanxus to eye the priest warily, but with less trepidation than he had Kiritsugu. "Because of us, you've managed to get into trouble you shouldn't have gotten yourself into. This time, everything had panned out well, because of Kiritsugu's quick thinking. But we cannot be here every time you decide to do something dangerous, no matter the reason, so it would be good if you had some knowledge on how and when to defend yourself." The priest's voice was indifferent, as if he didn't care a whit whether or not Xanxus picked up the offer, causing Xanxus to bristle again.

He knew damned well he was useless, but did that shitty priest have to throw it in his face so shamelessly!?

"Yeah, you are a bunch of Samaritans, doing the goody for a poor, fucked up kid," he sneered, suppressing a flicker of guilt at Harry's disappointed face.

He didn't care if he disappointed the _turista._

Really, he _didn't._

He didn't expect to be hauled up into the air by the scruff of his shirt like some kind of an unruly puppy. He glared at the gray eyes staring into his own reddish brown ones, snarling again as he crossed his hands on the chest, not wanting to give them the satisfaction knowing they startled him.

"I assure you that we don't care if you live or die." This - Kuzuki – announced, his voice flat and emotionless. Involuntarily, a sharp inhale of oxygen spiked Xanxus' lungs, causing them and his gut to hurt. Flat gray eyes stared into the dual-colored ones as if Xanxus was a mere bug, and it was only question of time - and whim – whether he would be crushed in that man's grasp or not. "We could've left you back at Freccia, stewing in your own failure."

They could have.

Xanxus' gut sank even further. No matter his almost miraculous salvation on their hands, they would have if it weren't for Harry.

A stone cold silence.

"We _don't_ care." The assassin repeated, his eyes flickering from Xanxus to Harry for a long moment, and then back to Xanxus.

"But Harry _does._ And he wants you to have a chance to defend yourself when - not _if_ , but _when_ \- the trouble come sniffling for you."

Xanxus jaw was clenched so tight it almost hurt. He wanted to attack the bastard, to claw out his eyes… but he refrained. Slowly, he released his arms from his chest, forcefully relaxing as his mind blitzed through the possible scenarios.

On one hand, he would have to deal with them.

On other hand, he could learn to protect himself and those of his better.

And if he learned from them, there would be a greater chance to snatch Harry from them later on…besides, to get stronger, it was only reasonable to be trained by the best in their respective fields, and even if Xanxus didn't exactly know much about it, those three assassins in front of him, offering him their tutelage in the things they were best at… were no doubt utter monsters.

And if he refused, he wouldn't have the same chance ever again.

Besides… Harry had wanted him to be protected. A tiny kernel of warmth unfurled in his chest at this thought, however fragile it was.

 _Harry cared._

With that in mind, he smirked his most bloodthirsty smirk, the brown in his eyes almost completely overtaken by red, making him look like a small red-eyed devil.

"Do your fucking _worst,_ trashes."

He was the damned _Victory_ of the Four Horsemen. And he would fucking _prevail_ over anything those three trashes thought up in order to trip him.

Kirei's eyebrows rose at the puppy's declaration. It was almost cute how the brat puffed out his small chest in order to appear tougher than he was. He felt his inner sadist sit up and take notice.

And ooh, this was going to be _fun_ …. For Kirei. For Xanxus, it was debatable.

Kiritsugu glared. This kid was really too big for the britches he apparently wanted to wear. And from the look of things, Xanxus' target was Harry, and that was _hell no_ in Kiritsugu's book. Make that _hell to fucking **no** _ times _infinity._ If this snot-nosed brat thought he knew what the true suffering was he had another thing coming. Dante's inferno would be compared to a cute little _sandbox_ with what he intended to drag the brat through.

Kuzuki's jaw clenched. He had been raised to respect the authority. And it outright _galled_ at him that this tiny, milk-toothed brat dared them to do their worst. Kuzuki himself was one of the most terrifying assassins for a reason. No target, however difficult, was out of his reach. He could break the brat's bones with no more force than he would use on a toothpick. He could torture him to insanity with the barest of touches… and make him literally _beg_ to end his pathetic little life, worth even less than this of a fly's.

He looked at Harry from the corner of his eye.

"You heard him." It was more of a demand than asking for affirmation of the brat's words.

Harry's face was a picture of exasperated suffering.

"Loud and clear. Xanxus," Harry addressed the little shit and soon to be little shit-stain stomped ten feet under if the three assassins had anything to say about it.

"You've made your decision. They are now your absolute _masters_ until they say you are competent enough to be let out on your own." Harry's voice was even, with no trace of mirth within. The brat in Kuzuki's grasp sagged, apparently disappointed that he didn't get the cheers he thought to deserve for his heroic decision.

The three assassins fought the urge to smirk.

Take _that,_ you disrespectful little ass. They were, and would remain first in Harry's little circle, and if they had anything to say about it, the only ones. They relaxed a little when that familiar warmth curled within their chests radiating _trustprotectionaffectionbelief,_ causing them to straighten their spines with pride and focus once more.

"And, Xanxus?" Harry's eyebrows quirked at the little boy's miserable face when he finally realized that his decision may have not been the best to choose.

"Good luck."

(That night, and many more after this one, Xanxus had nightmares about the absolute _demons_ he had dared to provoke with his foolish words.)

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Colonello eyed the strange Rain distrustfully. "Stay away from Lal, kora!" He snapped at the silent martial artist, prompting him to blink. "I don't have any interest in her."Soichiro replied blandly. "I am not at fault if she thinks my Sky interesting…"Gray eyes narrowed and Colonello felt a foreboding chill skitter up his spine. "… so keep her away from him. Fail, and I will use harsher measures to deter her."_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the 'verses or the song... yeah, no. Not happening in this life.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ Well, the things are officially heating up. Weather is hot, the story is getting hotter. So let's see what Xanxus' devils of tutors have in stash for their favorite - _not!_ \- brat, and of course, I've had way too much fun with your little suggestions to not take into at least some of the points. And you _can_ say that Skies can and do have 'bouts of E-S rank luck. That's just the way the things are. And of course, Kirei just had to commandeer the chapter this time.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU-verse** _ on multiple scales, bad language, Kirei being a troll and Xanxus being a fluffy little kitten with how dangerous he is. So to say, not at all...Probably.

* * *

 _I can be nice but don't test me  
I can get wicked  
I get wicked, wicked  
I get wicked  
There's no escaping it  
Wicked_

 _You wanna kick it  
Watch me get wicked  
Step up and get it  
'Cause I get wicked_

( _'I Get Wicked'_ by Thousand Foot Krutch)

* * *

"Again." Kiritsugu's voice was uncompromising as he told his bratty charge to do the task assigned once more. Xanxus sent him an exhausted glare, wishing the Magus Killer to drop dead or some similarly horrific scenario happen to his indifferent torturer.

His fingers were aching, half-numb from the repetitive putting together and dismantling the gun - again, again and yet _again_ – and yet, Kiritsugu still wasn't satisfied with it, repeating that little phrase Xanxus was now beginning to hate with a passion of a million suns.

 _Again._

Dismantle. Put together. Repeat. The cycle was endless in its monotony and Xanxus' eyes were beginning to get blurry with exhaustion, but his hands still set to the task with a precision borne from hours of repeating one and the same thing numerous times.

If Xanxus imagined he would've began the lessons with a bang, Kiritsugu sorely underwhelmed his expectations. Instead, the messy-haired assassin set the small boy to learning ins and outs of his chosen weapon, how to take care of it and how to both dismantle and put it back together… without allowing him to fire a single shot.

In Kiritsugu's immortal words, when they began: "There's more to wielding guns than just shooting and reloading them and looking badass while using them. If you don't know what they are, how they are built and how they tick, you won't draw out their whole potential, no matter how good the gun is. Idiots rely on their weapons to do their work for them. Excellent gunners can do their job no matter the kind of gun they have, even if it's the worst one of the lot. "Empty black eyes stared down the boy who was awkwardly clutching half of the reassembled gun in his still too small hands. "And I will not tolerate you being an idiot on the issue. Back at the Freccia you were an utter _embarrassment,_ and it was by sheer dumb luck you haven't killed either me or yourself while wielding that gun."

Xanxus had wanted to sink ten feet under. Kiritsugu's words, even as true as they were, still hurt and to be criticized as such in front of Harry…. Well. He felt his cheeks being uncomfortably how and his gut twisted with anger and shame, but he pushed the fury down, now it was not the time to be petty and he had to show Harry that he was an adult, too, so that Harry wouldn't feel his faith in Xanxus was misplaced.

He refused to look to the bed where Harry was laying, glaring at Kiritsugu instead and sorely wishing the annoying assassin would just combust himself or something for embarrassing Xanxus so.

Xanxus refused being grouped with the rest of the idiots. And if it took dismantling and reassembling the piece of junk in his hands a thousand times, then by Holy Virgin, he would do it and _excel_ at doing it.

Though this excellence seemed the ever-distant goal, going the further the longer he pursued it. No matter how fast or perfect he had done the task, he was always met with an unimpressed glare and that curse spoken in a flat, emotionless voice.

 _Again._

Again and again.

 _Again._

It was enough to make him howl with fury. But Xanxus bit the inside of his already sore cheeks and continued. He would not give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing Xanxus lose his temper, however deserved it would have been.

And that's not including the priest.

Xanxus, like everyone, had his fair share of regrets in his young life, but being tutored by that cross-wearing demon in a human skin was undoubtedly one of his most profound ones.

That first time when they met Kirei had made an impression on the young boy, half-naked, his bare upper body sculpted and tight, but not to the extent of bodybuilder's own. Strong muscles covered by smooth skin, visible six-pack and pectorals, and his back was also muscled, subtly hinting on the strength the priest could employ in physical endeavors if needed, and Xanxus had no doubt the rest of Kirei's body was in a similarly stupendously good shape.

But Xanxus was finding first hand that the regime to attaining such a body was anything but simple. In fact, after every session with Kirei, he felt wiped out, like Kirei had wrung out the last atoms of strength out of his very marrow, his muscles aching and burning and every time, Xanxus felt that this was it, he wouldn't be able to get up the next morning, much less move after the session.

No such luck. He didn't know what Kuzuki – the gray-eyed one - was using, but it smelled _beyond_ foul when he massaged it into Xanxus' sore muscles, and then told him to get up for his cold weapons' training.

Xanxus could've cried. And of course he did, when he was stumbling back home, at least some stray tears escaped the corners of his eyes while he cursed those three sadists starring as his tutors to the deepest pits of Hell and back.

Every damn time, Xanxus swears it's the last time he subjects himself to the tort - _training_ they are making him to go through.

And every damn morning, sure as the sun is going up, Xanxus finds himself in front of their door, ready, willing and able to go through his personal hell once again.

(The food is not counting in this calculation. Not at all, even if Xanxus is fed and watered, exponentially better and more often than if he had been doing his time on the streets.

Not even Harry's smiles do that, making Xanxus' heart beat faster and cheeks warm a little when the _turista_ invites him to sit on his bed and talk about his day.

Nope. Not at all.)

* * *

For such a bratty kid, Xanxus was surprisingly resilient. Neither of the three of them were exactly gentle while coaching him in their chosen disciplines - Kiritsugu covered guns, Kirei got the self-defense, and Kuzuki oversaw cold weaponry - well, knives for now, but there was always a room for improvement. And if they sneaked in a lesson or two on English and any host of different subjects, ranging from Chemistry, to Physics or Math - everything nicely wrapped in the guise of survival, well, this was nobody's business but their own.

The brat still found time to be an irritating ball of shit, though. It was kind of ingrained in his personality, it seemed, and the only one around whom Xanxus actively blunt his prickly edges was Harry, much to Harry's fond amusement and the three assassins' irritation.

But at least the brat's colors didn't try to yank on their own anymore. Instead, they got kind of…subdued? Kirei didn't know how else to describe them, but it was akin to a temporary ceasefire or something. Not that Kirei expected the upstart to try to flare his colors to challenge them anytime soon. The itch was still there, but instead of grating at everyone's nerves, it was more bearable, probably because they accepted Xanxus in their fold, however grudging the acceptance had been.

Considering the colors…they still haven't got any progress on front. Of course, the Blue was as good as a tranquilizer and Kuzuki had an ample time to practice on Harry, just like Kirei did with his yellow one, the combination of the two speeding the healing process considerably. Kiritsugu's red one was destructive, they also knew that, especially when Kirei got a glimpse of Magus Killer's case full of special bullets.

 _Red. A wash of violent crimson, streaked with deep, cruel violet, like crystals on the verge of being shattered. Beautiful, but so very, very_ wrong _Kirei had to back a few steps away as to not get consumed in the feeling._

 _"Shatter and bind." Kiritsugu's mouth twisted up in a self-deprecating smirk at Kirei's still shell-shocked expression at him revealing his greatest and most damning secret. The priest looked at the black-eyed youth in a completely new light._

 _That kind of twisted Origin was… Kirei was speechless. He wouldn't have been impressed if he had been his old self - before Harry, his mind supplied helpfully – but seeing it like he did now, was an entirely different experience. That kind of an Origin could be considered useless, but here Kiritsugu was, changing it into an unparalleled weapon. First shatter the enemy's defenses, like cutting the strong tie, and then, loosely bind it back together into an approximation of its former strength yet containing none of it… then let the enemy use it, and in process, completely self-destruct by its use._

 _Getting through all of the defenses and then collapse them from the inside. A completely horrifying notion, especially for Magi who depended on their Magecraft to tide them through the dangers they coasted while using it._

 _Emiya Kiritsugu was an anathema to Magi style of life, and Kirei wondered - not for the first time - what would be like to be this person's mortal enemy, knowing that nothing could save you from the inevitable, gory death._

Shaking his head, Kirei dismissed the memory. Well, the red color was destruction, but it still raised a question what the violet one presented then. If the red represented the _Sever_ component of Kiritsugu's Origin, the violet one was _Bind_ … but something didn't sit really well with that explanation. Something was missing, and it drove Kirei up the wall as he tried to find out what exactly that missing component was.

Not to mention his own conundrum. Sunny yellow and then violet-indigo. The yellow one was healing, or at least it corresponded to that effect. Violet - or indigo - or approximation of it thereof… did nothing to this effect.

Or… Kirei's eyes narrowed. Maybe it did. He recalled the time when he used Black Keys at Elysium. Usually whitish blue blades changed into yellow – violet mix, and even if the blades did their usual function of slicing just as well, there was this little thing when they also caused the wounds to decay with a terrifying speed. Maybe it caused decay in some shape or form? The color was similar to Kiritsugu's, but the chance of both of them having the same ability were a bit too far-fetched to be believable.

Kirei knew himself well. He had a talent in spiritual healing, and this was both blessing and a curse for a long time. Blessing because he could help Harry, and curse because it was an anathema to his own nature. Him, who enjoyed the suffering of his fellow people, being gifted with the talent to heal their spiritual ailments. So whatever this violet color presented was something else, something that … managed to translate the spiritual healing onto a material plane. He had been taken aback when he healed Harry's back that his healing was actually _doing something_ instead of only relieving the pain, but he had pushed his surprise into background and concentrated on healing as much as he could, with Kuzuki lending a helping hand in soothing the wounds with the Blue.

And that also left Kuzuki with his little green mystery. It hadn't been as prominent when they healed Harry, but Kirei noticed flashes of it when Xanxus unintentionally aggravated all three of them at Elysium. Blue-green eyes. Just for a few moments, but they were blue-green, like his colors.

Kirei could only suppose that the situation and emotional high somehow triggered those until-then useless colors into their more useful counterpart. He had tried to trigger the change himself later on, but the colors stubbornly stayed in their ephemeral shape not budging an inch to manifest in his blades. The only time they have done anything concrete was when he was healing Harry, and it was beginning to frustrate Kirei.

Or maybe… Harry was the catalyst, needed to ignite them into the working order?

Raising his eyebrows at the idea, Kirei pulled out a single Black Key. Concentrating on Harry, Harry's smiles, his friendship, Kirei's own need to be with him, forever and always, not allowing them to be parted _(-over his **dead** body - _), he focused into igniting the Key.

The previously blueish white blade slowly - so very slowly, but surely, changed the colors, white darkening into yellow and pale blue deepening into violet, causing Kirei's eyebrows to quirk up, and his mouth lift into a smirk.

"Success." The young priest muttered to himself, the glow of the single blade reflecting in his dead brown eyes.

* * *

Kuzuki watched Harry, who was once again sleeping. Despite Harry having been almost healed, it turned out that accelerating the process also left the green-eyed teen more exhausted than he would've normally been after such an ordeal. But stubborn as he was, Harry insisted on continuing his lessons, with Kuzuki reluctantly acquiescing to his wishes in this regard.

It was kind of easier and harder at the same time. Easier, because Harry was a willing enough pupil, and harder because it was Harry, who was barely out of the bed - by a skin of his teeth, still sickly pale, with raccoon eye bags under his eyes, those green eyes stubborn as their owner tries to take in as much knowledge as he could. Kuzuki would have opposed to this kind of situation, but all of them needed something to keep the situation normal, and for Harry, it was to continue with the lessons. It wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism around, because sooner than latter Harry would have to confront the issue or at least its consequences. Bur for now… Kuzuki allowed it.

It also reassured this selfish part of him, the one which had been scared to death when he found out that Harry was taken from them, once again, terrified that this time, their separation was final. Closing his eyes briefly, Kuzuki pondered his feelings.

He hadn't been that long with Harry - not as long as Kirei and Kiritsugu, certainly, but somehow, his feelings on the issue were strong enough to prompt him to react with lethal force once more.

He had sworn not to use it again - not after what happened before he quit his assassin days forever. And it took only one person to wake that dragon of wrath in his soul, to prompt him to use his power to kill once again.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't feel guilty. He supposed he should have had to, what with breaking his self-made oath, however seeing Harry hung from the ceiling, his back more of a mess of a carved up flesh than skin and bones he got used to seeing, and then that bastard of a man, trying to claim him…. Kuzuki's world was washed in red. As an assassin, he shouldn't have had any feelings - assassins were weapons, plain and simple, but why did he then wish to torture the man for however long his body would hold on, and then well into insanity?

This was unlike Kuzuki. Fragile eyelids were peeled open slowly, as gray eyes looked down at the sleeping charge.

"You are changing me… and I am not sure if it's for the better." Kuzuki murmured, his voice thoughtful as he bent forward to remove the stray lock off Harry sleep-relaxed face.

Maybe it didn't matter. He wasn't good to begin with… what mattered, was that Harry was still with him, still looking at him like Kuzuki was one of his precious people, fearlessly, with trust shining in those green orbs Kuzuki couldn't forget even when he had lacked the memories of them.

* * *

Usually, Xanxus was much more careful.

But this time, luck didn't hold with him.

He had been on his way back home through the series of ancient back alleys when he had been intercepted by some thugs he had pissed off before he met Harry. And this time, he didn't have the advantage of his little ragtag group along to even the odds.

"Hey, guys, seems _Donna Fortuna_ finally smiled upon us today!" One of the thugs sneered, showing a golden tooth in his mouth, causing Xanxus to glare at him before his eyes quickly took a measure of the …. Four, five, six…of his compatriots.

Inwardly, Xanxus wanted to groan.

This was so _not_ his day. First he was late for his lessons, then Kiritsugu was absolutely _beastly_ for some reason, and as his misfortune would have in it for him too, Xanxus had also made more mistakes than usual in his dismantling and reassembling practice, courtesy of him having a late night joust with his little group through the city because the festival was of course the prime chance for them to get both some fun and money out of the deal. They got a good haul and then they celebrated until the wee hours when they finally hit the bed.

Xanxus sorely regretted his late night escapade now. His body was still hurting from the gentle way - not! - Kirei was teaching him. The stretches alone were a murder, and then the actual lessons. Xanxus honestly wondered how he ever survived the ordeal this time. And of course, Kuzuki wasn't any less merciful with his own brand of teaching. The boy felt like he had gone through the wringer, both mentally and physically-wise. So he was entirely unprepared to be ambushed like this.

He remained silent. No need to provoke the dumbasses even more. Even his tongue hurt at the mere thought of it.

He distantly heard the leers and jeers and he scowled murderously, trying to keep his body loose, just like Kirei had taught him.

"What's that to ya?" He snapped out, and immediately cursed his sluggish mind for flapping his big, stupid mouth.

Another one, this time a very lanky fellow, brayed a loud laugh. He had big yellow teeth, and Xanxus was kind of reminded of a humanized mule. The Mule, like the man had been Xanxus-christened, then glared at the boy. "Do ya really think I've forgotten that it was you who stole my fifteen euros, _cazzo?_ Do ya?" He bend down to Xanxus, his breath stinky on the boy's face. Xanxus wanted to grimace. The cheap spirits and man's breath were foul enough to raise the dead if the Mule would be so inclined. Probably.

Instead, he sneered back. "Stole? I think you meant I just reimbursed myself with supplies you've oh so generously borrowed from my gang. Or is your famous memory going now too?"

Reddish brown eyes stared at the incensed man as his comrades hooted mockingly at him, but at the same time encouraging him to teach Xanxus some humility.

"You –!" A rough hand roughly grabbed the front of Xanxus' short-sleeved shirt as the man lifted his other arm to threateningly ball his fist in order to deck Xanxus one, but the boy didn't wait on him to finish his action. Instead, his fingers curled around Mule's wrist, digging his sharp nails into the tender meat of the under the man's wrist, causing him to curse and then loose the gram some, which was good enough distraction for the boy to take it and sharply swing his left leg with an explosive force directly into the man's crotch, causing him to yowl with pain and crumple like a sack of potatoes, curling into itself like a dirty maggot.

This paused the whole scene, the other six thugs watching the brat warily. Before, Xanxus was relatively easy target, using his nails and teeth and occasional what-have-you that he grabbed to deal the maximum amount of damage possible. But never, ever did he fight back like… like he did now.

The brat's fanged grin wasn't exactly reassuring, either.

"You fucking little _braat –!"_ One of the more idiotic ones cursed as he lunged forward wielding the spiked club, only for Xanxus to duck and then the slippery bastard was on the thug's side, kicking him in the back of his knee, instantly throwing him off balance and then, the fight was on, everyone lunging forward, thirsty for the blood of the little asshole who dared to mock them so.

Broken bottles. Knives. Fists… and of course, there was a rusted chain along.

Fuck. There was no getting out of it whole and prissy, not that he was prissy to begin with. His muscles screaming with the effort, Xanxus sent a prayer to whichever deity currently hated him to absolve him from whatever stupidity he had done to have such a shitty day and prepared for the beat down of his life.

First two were dumb enough to get relatively easy, but what concerned Xanxus the most, was the fellow with the chain. To make things worse, the asshole was also fairly skilled in it's use - _uh-oh_ \- Xanxus hurriedly dodged the broken bottle and then jabbed the man into the sensitive nerve cluster under his arm, causing him to emit half-yelp and half curse, before Xanxus also gifted him with a strong kick to the knee, causing the knee to emit a sick sound, a cross between some kind of pop and break and causing the man to howl with agony as he crashed down -

He ducked the swing, but then, his eyes widened when that dreaded chain wrapped around his neck painfully, causing him to cough as he frantically tried both to breath and unwind the fucking thing off his throat.

"Not so high and mighty now, are ya, brat?" His captor sneered, gifting him with another harsh yank that almost threw Xanxus on the floor, but by some kind of miracle, he crashed on his knees and palms of his hands, the sting in the bruised areas strong and true and hell, Xanxus wanted the asshole to burn –

He yelped when a kick crashed into his side, the pain blooming through his body like a white-hot, poisonous flower.

"Hey, you rabid little animal. You don't have to blame anyone else for your predicament but yourself. "The chain wielder grinned an ugly grin. "We tried to give you a chance, kind as we are, but of course, you are stupid little animal, biting the hand that offers you kindness. So I think it's fair to up the payment to include broken bones. Fair is fair, no?" Another kick into his stomach upturned Xanxus on his back and forced a pained wheeze out of him as the same boot firmly stomped onto his tiny chest, causing his breathing to be even harder.

Xanxus' heat was beating miles per minute, and he stiffened his body in an anticipation of further pain.

"I disagree with it." A familiar voice interjected and Xanxus simultaneously wanted to drown under the concrete in shame and crow with triumph.

"What's that to ya, you shitty priest? Wanna tell us to just forgive and forget the brat's deeds? The chain man sneered, turning his head to the newcomer.

The Priest in question was unfazed as the two others advanced at him. Xanxus couldn't help but pity the poor bastards. He had a tiny taste of what the man in question was capable of - the tiniest possible, really, and those two dumbasses aimed to evoke a full wrath of _la Famina_ of all people. Not that the idiots in question knew it, but really.

He grinned a vicious bloody grin, his eyes hungry as he watched the priest easily dispatch of his two attackers and prompting Xanxus' temporary handler's chain to slacken with surprise.

 _"Dio Mio."_ There was horrified groan from the ground where one of Xanxus' victims was still regaining his equilibrium as Kirei's two attackers fell like two sacks of potatoes. Two very dead sacks of potatoes.

The priest then advanced, causing the chain man to back away and drag along Xanxus, much to the child's disgruntlement.

"Not a step closer! Or else the brat gets it!" He threatened, his voice loud with a tinge of hysteria thrown in as he yanked the chain, choking Xanxus further.

"God is forgiving, my son, and I am sure you could forgive a child his misdemeanor against you." Xanxus' eyes just about bugged out of his eyes when he heard Kirei being all in his shitty priest mode.

"They - _gh_ \- stole our money!" He gargled out, furious. "Was 'nly right th' take it back!" He glared at the priest, but was only given an unimpressed glance, which infuriated Xanxus even further.

Didn't the man even care for the position Xanxus was in right now!?

He growled, and if glares were bullets, then Kirei would have been a very nice corpse, chock-full of the holes made by them. Sadly, the priest was still alive and still as unconcerned as ever.

"Stealing is bad." Kirei agreed, causing Xanxus' jaw drop in comical horror, and the man to relax a tiny little bit –

-only for him to choke on his own blood, courtesy of Kirei's fist in the middle of his chest and Xanxus heard, loud and clear, the cracking of the man's ribs under Kirei's punch, while the priest simultaneously grabbed the hand that hold the end of the chain, preventing Xanxus from being strangled from the amount of the force used in the punch.

The sound was meaty and yet fragile and it was… inevitable.

There had been a wordless scream of horror behind Xanxus back, when those two men Xanxus had felled tried to either attack or run from the monster in the guise of a priest, but to no avail - a bright flash of yellow and violet later, and those strange knives - where did Kirei get them _from?_ – were firmly tucked in one's throat and between another's ribs, causing the duo to drop like sacks of meat, their eyes already glazing over with the sheen of death.

The boy's eyes were wide, greedily drinking in the sight of death, yet still not fully comprehending it. It had all happened so fast –

Xanxus swallowed, bile rising in his throat. This was not killing from distance, like Kiritsugu had done in Elysium. Instead, it was a brutal reality of a fight when one seemingly harmless priest outclassed the six opponents so badly it was not even a contest of strength. It was like watching human crush a couple of ants. Without feelings and so, so very easily.

This… was the strength of Kotomine Kirei, the priest.

The strength of a monster.

And for the first time, Xanxus was grateful that he accepted Kiritsugu's offer of being taught by the three of them. Slowly, he got on his knees and -

The next thing he felt, was a hard bonk on his head.

 _"OWWW!_ What was that for!?" He yelped, his hand flying up to tenderly caress his noggin as he glared up at his teacher.

"You stupid apprentice."

… That froze Xanxus in his tracks.

"… What?" He finally got out, his reddish brown eyes huge with all the questions swimming in them. Did Kirei finally crack under the pressure?

He was behaving way too differently right now!

Instead, he got a small shrug in return.

"I just wanted to say it once." The priest said, causing Xanxus to slump with helpless exasperation, silently fuming at his teacher's whimsical actions.

What was with that shitty, priest, really?!

Grumbling, he managed to stand up, his legs still shaky and his hands trembled as he unwrapped the offending chain off his throat, grimacing at the stinging sensation wounding around his throat. _That_ would be a fine one to explain to his mother.

He would deny to the end of the time and beyond he yowled with surprise when he had been grabbed by the scruff of his shirt like a small puppy and hauled up.

Both the boy and the priest crossed their stares - and empty brown-eyed one with a wide-eyed reddish-brown one.

"I think it's a time to up your training. If you can't deal with a single chain, then you seriously lack in self-defense." Kirei said matter-of-factly, as if he was discussing what a fine weather they were having today.

Xanxus' jaw slackened with surprise and his eyes, already large, now felt as if they wanted to jump out of their eye sockets.

That - that devil of a priest! Kirei had never, ever even hinted on how to defend oneself from chains, and now Xanxus was the lucky recipient of another training that would probably make Lucifer himself bawl in utter despair with its difficulty, as if Xanxus wasn't already been juggling enough things -!

He must have emitted some kind of a sound, because the priest eyed him again, those forked eyebrows - really, Xanxus was beginning to think that they were there just to warn people what kind of a devil the priest was - raising up a little.

A chill trickled down Xanxus' spine and he stiffened. Not that it protected him any from Kirei's next words.

"Oh, you agree? Excellent, then we'll begin your new regime tomorrow morning." And Kirei nodded to himself and that was that.

Xanxus, on the other hand, seriously wanted to cry.

He let himself to be hauled along like a puppy, not even questioning just how was it that Kirei knew the way to his home, already too traumatized with the tides the next morning would bring.

* * *

Kirei navigated the ancient streets like he had done it his entire life, still hauling Xanxus along like an unruly puppy. Xanxus' luck held on, however, and the strange duo didn't encounter many people on their way, and even if they did, it was already dark enough for them to not be easily recognizable. It was just one more citizen hauling home another of his brats.

Sooner than Xanxus would have liked Kirei stopped in front of the hole where he had been dwelling since he had arrived in the city with his mother.

And indeed, it was a hole, the door being barely tall enough for Kirei to squeeze into the small antechamber which immediately widened into the tiny, all-purpose room that doubled as a living room, kitchen, storage and in the winter times, would additionally function as the main of warmth for its inhabitants. Of course, Xanxus had his own little room, and there was a tiny cubicle that doubled as a toilet, bathroom and washing room, but that was all.

The desks under the priest's weight creaked ominously, and there was a quick shade on the priest's right side and it was only Kirei's reflexes that allowed him to stop the ancient and quite greasy pan successfully dent his skull.

 _"Lasciar perdere mio figlio, bastardo!"_ A woman's voice hissed up at Kirei, dark eyes, so similar to Xanxus, glinting with a wrathful light as she bared her teeth at him.

Once upon a time, she had to be a good looking lady, but life and it's trials sucked up the freshness of her face and replaced it with weary exhaustion.

That didn't stop her from defending her son, though…. Even if offense was stopped via priest's frim grab of her bony wrist. She snarled at the man, bristling as she already prepared to kick him where all men feared to be hurt.

"I come in peace, _signora._ " Kirei's Italian was flawless, if a little bit accented.

It may have been a tiny bit of a strange chance or luck, but light, however little it was in the room, glinted off the small cross on Kirei's chest, causing woman's eyes to widen with surprise.

 _"Mamma!"_ Xanxus was shocked. He never would have thought that his kind, meek, even if at times ditzy mother would dare to attack a man because of him… and even worse, a priest! Well, Kirei wasn't much of a priest, but by all the saints and angels, nobody attacked a priest! It was simply unheard of, uncivilized to the extreme!

 _"Mi-mi dispiace, signore padre!"_ Xanxus' mother stuttered, flushing with mortification. "I - I thought that you were – " She ducked her head, her loose black hair, for once not in her twin pony spilling across her shoulders as she tried to get her wrist out of Kirei's hold.

"It's alright. I would've done the same." Kirei inclined his head as he carefully let go of woman's hand, while simultaneously putting Xanxus on the ground and letting go of him, causing the boy to rush to his mother, still shell shocked, enough to tolerate the desperate hug the woman bestowed upon him.

 _"Mamma_ , why did you do that? Kirei is a _priest_ and you always told me that nobody ought to do them harm!" Xanxus frowned, jutting his lower pip out as he lectured his mother, struggling in her hold.

Not that he would mind that particular priest being harmed, but _come on!_

He watched, fascinated, when his mother's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Ah… I thought it was someone who wanted to do you harm?" Her explanation was more of a question, causing Xanxus to groan and if his arms were free, he would have face-palmed with exasperation. The situation was beyond stupid, but Xanxus could understand her reasoning. Kirei didn't cut an exactly peaceful figure when he entered, carrying Xanxus like one would an unruly kitten!

 _"Venerato padre,_ what are you doing here? Has - has Xanxus done something wrong?" His mother's voice hitched with the second sentence. "He is a good boy, and I've tried to teach him the Holy Bible as best as I could … _Oh."_ She trailed of, her eyes widening even further as she saw something in Kirei, something that made her tight grip on Xanxus loosen with shock, enabling the boy to wiggle out of her grasp, at least partially.

 _"Mamma?"_ He asked, now apprehensive. Her eyes were once again vacant, as if she was seeing something nobody else except of her saw.

"Oh, Xanxus, darling. Oh, I've _known_ that you were strong, my love, but bonding with a Sun - and such a strong Sun at that!" She squealed, and Xanxus was treated with one more of her hugs. "There's no doubt you will be a Decimo, you are a Sky, a Sky, a _Sky_ , and so very, very strong! Vongola will snap you up, yes, they will, yes they will!"

She laughed like a madwoman, squeezing now freaked out Xanxus even tighter as she was kissing his hair, his cheeks, his forehead and ….and… was she crying, too?

Now, Xanxus was a man among men, but seeing his mother's tears, he panicked.

 _"Mamma!"_ His reproachful voice came out more like a whine as he tried to save himself from being suffocated in her hug. Damn, but for such a fragile woman, his mother was as strong as a bear! "What the fuck are you babbling about!?"

That earned him a swat at the back of his head. "Language, young man!" His mother barked out, and Xanxus breathed out in relief. He could deal with that no-nonsense version, at least better than with crying one.

He just nodded, not daring to say anything.

Luckily, Kirei was the one to say more.

 _"Scusi, signora,_ but could you explain what are you talking about?" The priest asked, his voice a little bit sharper than intended, causing the woman to flinch. Empty brown eyes were watching the woman in question attentively, like she was some kind of an enemy about to get him.

Xanxus' mother eyed Kirei sharply. "You don't know…?" She trailed off, once more wary of the priest.

"I know some, but not everything. So more information would be appreciated." Kirei soothed, causing Xanxus' mother to reluctantly nod with understanding.

"Oh, alright." She sighed, finally releasing Xanxus, who was happy at his newly gained freedom, but he didn't go anywhere. If that was what his mother said him to give him a better life, then Xanxus was damn well curious of the explanation!

"You – " She pointed at Kirei with his bony finger "Have Sun Flames." Kirei blinked.

"Yellow?" He asked, his sharp mind quickly making a connection.

She nodded sharply, her eyes intent on his son's first Guardian. "There are seven Flames. Sun. Storm. Lightning. Rain. Cloud. Mist." She recited her gaze once again distant as if remembering something.

"And seventh?" Kirei prodded, having a gut feeling that he wouldn't like the answer much.

"Like my Xanxus. Sky." She smiled proudly, her face now looking years younger, as if a huge burden fell off her shoulders.

Kirei got a bad feeling. Xanxus got one worse.

If what Xanxus thought it would happen, then shit was just about to hit the fan.

 _"Mamma?"_ He asked, tugging at her sleeve, causing her to turn her head to him and smile at him gently.

"Why is that Sky thing so very important?" He tilted his head on the side, playing an ignorant little boy to a T.

She laughed, her laughter low and affectionate as she gently ruffled his hair.

"Sky, my little darling, is a _royalty._ They are Harmony. They gather all the Elements as their Guardians… and then they rule. And the strongest Sky of them all… until now… was Timoteo di Vongola, the ninth _Don_ of Vongola _famiglia_. A _famiglia_ you are a rightful heir of."

Xanxus blanched. He didn't have to look at Kirei to know that was the absolute worst outcome.

 _'Well, shit.'_

Kirei had been right. The answer wasn't the one he liked, but it explained much, if Kirei's suppositions were correct.

And if he had been right….Kirei eyed the now chalk-white little brat…. Then the said little brat had much to answer for.

* * *

Fiamma, as Xanxus's mother was called, was ecstatic. She wasn't much of a Sensor, but she was good enough to get by, and Xanxus' Sky was one of the strongest flames she ever sensed, even if his potential wasn't realized yet. However, because her ability fluctuated, she was no good on the Mafia side of life. Xanxus' father also had strong Sky flames - strong enough to pass them on Xanxus.

Xanxus. Her beautiful, wonderful little boy. Who now had a future ahead of him, and what a grand future it would be.

When the priest came in, she at first didn't realize that he was Flame Active, but then, it was like mists dispersing, letting the sun rays through like divine announcers of the force of life.

Beautiful, beautiful _yellow._ And so very strong and pure, too. She got only one more glimpse, of orange being intertwined with yellow and oh, this was a sight she could gladly live with if he had been blinded this very moment.

Xanxus' Sun. So very strong and majestic that it took her breath away. There was no way that Vongola wouldn't grab up her Xanxus, because not only did he have Sky Flames, but he had also gained such an exceptionally strong Sun Guardian… and there was no doubt that he would attract other equally strong Guardians.

And oh my, that would be a sight…

"Signora, could you tell me more about those… Flames?" The priest - she still didn't know his name, she had to rectify that soon - asked, as he bowed his head respectfully, causing her to flush. Such a strong Guardian bowing to her humble self, oh dear.

Smiling bashfully, she invited the priest to sit down on the meager chair and then proceeded to speak.

* * *

Mafia. _Mafia,_ of all things.

If Kirei would have been that kind type, he would've either laughed or cried hysterically upon the revelation. Only their luck. But what he gleaned from _signora_ Fiamma, as she asked him to call her, was interesting nonetheless.

Apparently, Kirei was a Sun, which meant Activation and also answered to his own attribute of Healing. Judging from Kiritsugu's red color - _Flames_ \- Kirei corrected himself, Kiritsugu was a Storm, and a particularly volatile one, too, considering the Disintegration aspect translated scarily well into the _Sever_ part of his Origin. Kuzuki's Blue was apparently Rain, which explained just why he could calm Harry so quickly, and even more so, how he could disappear so very completely.

But Harry - Harry - Kirei's breath involuntarily hitched when he remember that beautiful golden orange shroud around him keeping Dementors away that time when they met -

Harry was a _Sky._

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

"Distorted. _They're fucking_ distorted _."Viper's shocked, semi-sickened, almost drunk garble tumbled off the shaken illusionist's lips as he stumbled away. Viper had seen many things in his long life, but this one - this_ travesty _of a Sky and its Elements was an anathema to everything he knew and stood for. Viper knew he wasn't a good person - no one at their level was, but they –_

 _"What do you mean, they are Distorted?" Skull asked cluelessly._

 _Viper's lips tightened in a moue of disgust before they were peeled off into a half-snarl. "They are – "He faltered, searching for an appropriate expression to describe what he had just seen. "Compared to them, Varia – hell, even_ Vindice _– are crushingly, devastatingly and mind-bogglingly_ normal. _" He finally managed to get out. "Those three – they are steeped in darkness. They are_ abominations! _"_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own it. Otherwise I wouldn't be writing this, obviously.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Dead tired, but the chapter is finally done! Moving on, we get some reasons, shitty as they may be for some questionable decisions, and of course, fluff. At least a little. No gangsta style, but well. Can't have it yet that way. And Xanxus is such a _brat_ to write it's not even funny. As a street brat, he is more intelligent, so this chapter reflects some of it, but he is still a kid.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU-verse**_ on multiple scales, fluff, angst, explanations and mention of one Beatles' songs. Let's see just how many will find that one out.

* * *

 _I think I'm ready  
I think I've got it  
'Cause too much thinking is bad for my health  
It's like a fire 'cause when I start it  
I can't control it and I burn myself_

 _But I can't just sit here and watch it_  
 _If we don't stop it no one will_

( _'We are'_ by Thousand Foot Krutch)

* * *

Somehow, Xanxus survived the episode of embarrassment witnessing his mother to dote on that shitty priest. He also got a general idea about what did his mother exactly mean when she said he could be great, but judging by Kirei's expression, however minute it was, Xanxus was more sure that he would sooner meet his doom than get to reap any benefits from being a… _Sky?_ Or something like that.

Xanxus scoffed. Sky. _Harmonization._ Hah! Anyone who knew him could tell that Xanxus was the complete opposition - a _Disharmony_ in all of its shitty glory. Yeah, somehow he got together that little street gang of his, but they were just a bunch of street rats gathered together to ensure a little bit heightened chances of survival on the streets.

But with his _Mamma_ assuming that Kirei was _Xanxus'_ Sun of all things… Xanxus was beyond sure that this could and would end oh so badly. Kirei was a very particular bastard, and there was no way in heavens above or hell below that Xanxus wanted to be chained to that monster.

Hell, he would rather take his chances with Kiritsugu, however trigger-happy the Magus Killer was, or with that stone-faced assassin, Kuzuki or something, than having a Kirei on his supposed payroll. Not that he had any payroll to begin with. The point was, even with him becoming more comfortable about being around Harry's three assassins, that didn't mean he would be willing to coo and cuddle them anytime soon, much less be an imbecile enough to presume that he could rein them in when shit went down. That was Harry's domain alone, and even if he didn't tell him that, Xanxus was always quietly amazed that Harry could be in their company seemingly without any problem, even arguing with them when needed be, even if he was physically way weaker than them.

It took someone with the balls made of diamonds to watch those monsters in their eyes, knowing what they were, what they could do to him and still stay there, like he was _in_ -fucking _-vincible_ or at least immune to their attempts to do him harm. Not that the three of them would –they would sooner cut off their own balls by their own hands and without anesthetic to boot than do something like betray _Harry_ of all people. Xanxus heartily echoed the unspoken sentiment.

He tried to correct his _mamma_ , but of course, she was way over the moon to listen to him, babbling something about arranging a visit to some shitty old person, called _don_ Vongola Nonno.

Still. The flames. Xanxus shivered. If it was that when he saw their creepy eyes what caused Kiritsugu to almost go an absolute psycho on him when in Elysium, then no, thank you very much! If they reacted like that when he knew _jack shit_ he had those flames, he didn't even _want_ to imagine what would that bunch of crazies do to him when he actually _activated_ that stuff.

But from what his _mamma_ told him, he had already activated the reason for his soon-to-be demise. He didn't know how or why - he certainly didn't _feel_ any different, but judging by Kirei's glare, the older man had felt _something_ and yeah, Xanxus didn't want to jump, much less follow down that particular rabbit hole.

No way, no how.

Even if it was interesting to watch Kirei - when the shitty priest was apparently engrossed in his little experiment - to ignite one of those strange blades and slowly re-color it from blueish white to dark violet with sun yellow shards glinting through. The sight alone would've entranced an ordinary person, but Xanxus just about bolted as soon as he could tiptoe away from his watching - never say _hiding_ – spot.

However much he wanted to kick that traitorous, and undoubtedly suicidal thought of activating his own Flames _\- somehow_ , he knew nothing good would come out of it.

But… He couldn't help but be curious.

What would his Flames look like?

Xanxus forcibly stuffed the temptation in the deepest corners of his mind and hastily locked it there as much as he could.

No. No, no and _hell no_. He liked living, thank you very much!

But…!

He fidgeting, rolling on the blankets. Should he or shouldn't he?

"Xanxus!" The black-haired little boy was yanked out of his dilemma by his mother's voice. "The kind priest invited us to the dinner, so go wash up and get on your best clothes, young man!"

Xanxus' jaw dropped with horror as he scrambled off his meagre bed - it was just a modest amount of threadbare blankets, really.

Screw those Flames, that shitty priest wanted to make him _die_ from embarrassment first!

* * *

Kiritsugu's eyebrows were definitely raised when Kirei dragged back the brat and a woman whose facial features were slightly similar to his, introducing her as Fiamma, Xanxus' mother.

A significant look was exchanged between the duo, not that the two in question would admit they had any silent conversation to begin with.

 _'Are you sure?'_

 _"Sure. She can help.'_

Kiritsugu's shoulders relaxed as he nodded at the woman, who at the moment was hunched into herself, reminding him of a small, cornered mouse. What remained was just how hard that little mouse could bite - but even if she just tried, Kiritsugu wouldn't hesitate to waste one of his Origin bullets to send her to kingdom come.

The woman had obviously donned on her best clothes given the circumstances - dark blue skirt and white shirt, with her black hair being in twin ponytails falling down her shoulders. Hard live drank out most of the youth from her face, but those were still sharp, even if she was way too humble and demure right now - no doubt because of Kirei's priest's status.

"Welcome." He gave the startled woman a short nod and then he glance at the boy she protectively held at her side. It was strange to see that foul-mouthed brat be held back, like he was a barely-fledged chick in the need of someone's protection, when Kiritsugu knew damn well just what a nightmare he could be when unchecked.

 _"Buona sera, signor…"_ She trailed off, still wary of him, but by the way her eyes wide, and glazed slightly, Kiritsugu had to hold back a frown himself.

"Emiya." His answer was curt when he inspected the woman further, nothing that muted surprise/shock/glee on her face before they were wiped like the aforementioned emotions didn't exist here to begin with .

 _"P-Piacere!"_ She stuttered, shoving her hand forward and reluctantly Kiritsugu offered his own in a handshake, both of their eyes still on each other.

"Pleased to meet you, too. Shall we proceed?" Kiritsugu didn't bother with niceties, and he knew that the woman saw far more than he wanted her too… how much; it still proved to be seen. But until then, Kiritsugu would play an act of polite, if distant host.

He eyed the little brat who was the root of all their most recent trouble again, wordlessly conveying the message he knew the boy would understood immediately.

 _'This is your entire fault. Prepare for one hell of training.'_

He delighted at his stupid student's wince.

* * *

Fiamma was in daze and more than a bit terrified, but at the same time, she also begun to feel exhilaration at the unexpected situation she found herself in.

She didn't think she would meet a Storm - and such a strong one, too…she had to hold back a gasp when he held her in his own.

 _Oh…_

She didn't know how, but Vongola would definitely practically _beg_ Xanxus to become their leader just because he had so very strong Sun and Storm Guardians. Though it was concerning that she hadn't heard anything about such strong Elements - but more luck for Xanxus' then. If no one managed to reach out to those two, that only further proved Xanxus' suitability to be Vongola Decimo, like she always hoped and believed he would be.

She was led into a modest kitchen when another young man - Rain, this time, was ladling up some kind of a foreign soup that made her mouth water just by virtue of the scent in the air into middle-sized bowl before picking up a spoon.

The young man – raised his head, and Fiamma had to fight not to step back at that one.

She had known his sort - silent, faceless shadows of death, and seeing one from up close like she did right now was… a privilege, both grand and terrible.

The man wasn't anything special - tall, gray eyes and slender figure, a completely unremarkable fellow if one would met him on the street. But Fiamma was not the one to be fooled with the surface.

This man… was an ocean of tranquility. So very subtle, that she felt almost light-headed - _almost_ \- and had to shake her head to let those vestiges of calm web beginning itself to knot in her mind break apart.

That…. was a terrifying strength.

She ought to panic, her heart ought to jackhammer like that of a cornered rabbit's but she was surprisingly calm, even with her consciously upping her walls and mentally cautioning herself to be wary of that man.

"So this is our guest for the evening, hm?" Those dull gray eyes looked at her before they moved to - surprisingly - Xanxus and then to the priest and the Storm at Fiamma's side. Fiamma noted the vaguely foreign accent - but wait, all three of them, now when she thought about it, were foreigners to a degree. She blinked as he tilted his head at her. "Pleased to meet you, but I am afraid I can't exactly offer you a hand to shake." He motioned to the dishes in his hands.

"No – " She coughed, irritated at herself, before straightening out and looking straight into those soulless eyes. "It's no problem. Shall I help?" She offered, already stretching her arms to relieve the strange Rain of his burden, only for the grey-eyed man to shake his head.

"No, not those, they are for Harry." He replied, leaving her blinking and feeling foolish when he stepped past her and through the door back into the room she had come through a few moments prior.

"Harry?" She inquired, frowning. "Who is he?"

There was a sharp spike of Storm Flames, causing her to reel back with shock, before they were muffled by Sun ones.

"He's our friend and recovering from his illness." The priest replied, his voice even as he headed to the cupboard. He fetched the dishes which he placed on the small circular table, four in total, and his movements smooth and practiced. At the same time the Storm fetched spoons and forks, placing them on the appropriate places, his face smooth, even if his flames shifted with irritation every so often at FIamma's nosiness of the situation.

"But why can't he eat with us? You said he is well enough to be up now!" Xanxus snapped at the priest, and Fiamma was mortified.

 _Dio mio,_ to snap at a holy person like that!

 _"Xanxus!"_ She gasped, scandalized. "Even if he is your Sun Guardian, show him a proper respect, young man!" She berated her boy, folding her hands on the chest as she glared down at the child. _Ohh,_ when they would come home, she would make him pray at least two rosaries! She didn't raise a stupid hooligan, no; Xanxus ought to have known better!

Xanxus' face was a hilarious cross between his best mulish expression and surprise-big eyes.

"It's alright." The _prete_ soothed her, his lips quirking up in a small smirk, seemingly entertained at her child's rudeness. "And Xanxus, even if I said that, it doesn't mean Harry's at the strength he could entertain guests right now." He explained, and FIamma's respect for the _prete_ deepened. He had to be a very kind and understanding person, dealing with her rude son with such saint-like patience! Even she sometimes lost her nerves with him, and there the revered father was, calm as he could be, with Xanxus, who was, wonder of all wonders, accepting of his answers.

(Xanxus cringed at his mother's adoring gaze aimed at the shitty priest. He knew there was a misunderstanding afoot, and what was worse, Kirei didn't even try to dispel whatever his mother was thinking.

And… that sickly priestly persona Kirei was now wearing like it was the cross on his chest was making Xanxus want to barf. Where was that waste basket again?)

"But - !" He tried to oppose, only for Kiritsugu glare at him, causing his previous bravado to pop like a rubber balloon, filled with air. "No. Leave him to rest." Kiritsugu's voice was even.

Fiamma wanted to laugh at Xanxus' mulish face. He was so adorable, trying to go against his Elements! But of course, the Elements had an advantage in this case. "I could always see him some other time, "She offered, smiling slightly, still wary but at least a little bit more relaxed at seeing Xanxus interact with two of his Elements so freely.

He chose well and Fiamma's heart was lighter for it.

"Let's eat." Kiritsugu offered, prompting the gathered people in the kitchen to seat themselves around the table while Kiritsugu fetched a big bowl of steaming hot soup, the light yellow surface of the soup interspersed by diced cubes of chicken, carrot, onion, potato and cabbage.

It smelled…heavenly. Fiamma's mouth watered at the scent, even if it was a little bit unusual for a soup.

The priest motioned for her to give him her dish, which Fiamma did with kind of an awkward shyness, unused to be served by a person in such a high position. He ladled her good share before passing the now full dish back to her, prompting her to nod to him with gratitude, while her eyes were zeroed on the contents of the dish.

How long has it been, since she had eaten a good, filling meal like this?

Fiamma inhaled the scent, and suddenly, her eyes watered.

Too long.

After a short prayer - only one word and clasped hands, _really!_ \- all of them began to eat. Fiamma savored the broth's taste - light but filling enough at the same time, while Xanxus fell upon his share like a starved young… well, child, and soon after he demanded seconds - Fiamma would've been appalled, if she wasn't so engrossed in enjoying her own portion, while Xanxus' Elements were eating in an orderly manner, even such simple movements like those involved in nourishing themselves elegant in their simplicity.

Maybe, Fiamma could hope. If not for she - it was too late for her, anyway, then for the apple of her eye, her Xanxus.

* * *

"How it's going?" Harry inquired as he tried to sit in the bed, only for Kuzuki to hurriedly place the bowl on to the nearby table before helping him into desired position while half-heartedly glaring at the green-eyed teenager.

"You shouldn't have moved by yourself yet." He berated Harry, frowning with displeasure. Harry scowled back.

"I appreciate your concern, but all that forced stillness is driving me _bonkers!"_ He huffed, crossing his arms on the chest petulantly, hair sticking up every-which-way and squinting slightly because _someone_ \- surprisingly Kiritsugu - was mean enough to hide his glasses in an attempt to get him to rest more. Harry's unconscious pout made Kuzuki pinch the bridge of his nose to stave off his staring and project an expected amount of exasperation with the issue.

"Yes, I know. It's the thirteenth time you've told me that, and my answer is still no." He deadpanned before daring to deem the situation safe enough to remove his hand off his face and glare right back at those peeved green eyes. "We want you healthy as soon as possible too, but that doesn't mean allowing you do stupid things just because you could do them." He bent down, fluffing the pillows into more appropriate positions. Due to a three day's rest since Kirei got back with the announcement that he had an interesting information about their… shall they say, _extra_ abilities, Harry was now visibly better, both in the hue of his skin and his eye bags also got a lot paler, even if they hadn't vanished in their entirety yet. However with greater influx of energy also came greater influx of irritation when Harry's friends barred him from doing anything they deemed too strenuous for his own good.

It was both a source of relief, that Harry was finally getting better, and irritation that he was bullheaded enough to try and do the stupid, like Kiritsugu once said in exasperation.

"But - !" Harry's protest was silenced by a rough pad of Kuzuki's pointer finger being placed on his lips and a stern glare from those grey eyes, so very close to his own he could feel Kuzuki's breath on his lips.

"Not until you are better." Kuzuki replied firmly, causing Harry to scowl but then roll his eyes with defeated amusement before he bent forward and up, just enough to bop Kuzuki's nose with his own into a small nuzzle, causing those pretty gray eyes with surprise, before softening a little as Kuzuki - Soichiro, Harry reminded himself once again - returned the small nose bump affectionately. Kuzuki then retreated, a small, unnoticeable blush on his face while Harry smirked smugly as the assassin busied himself with retrieving the bowl and the spoon from the table.

It never ceased to be amusing how Kuzuki reacted to that small bit of affection.

It began by an accident, but it kinda became one of Harry's favorite things to do when he was bound to the bed, especially with all the reactions he could elicit from his helpless friends in process.

(Yes he was evil. But he was also bed-bound, high on whatever both Kirei and Kuzu - _Soichiro_ were doing, so sue him.)

(Even if lately didn't have such a convenient excuse aside it had become kind of a habit for him.)

Kirei only blinked before nuzzling back, even if his stare in Harry's eyes in the process was pretty unnerving. Kiritsugu at first flushed redder than a fire truck, and he couldn't even force himself to return the nose bump, but he did a forehead-to-forehead thing, which he was doing even now, much to Harry's amusement.

Kuzuki, however, was hands - or noses – down Harry's favorite for this kind of action. Harry loved to see those usually blank eyes crack a bit and the crack, however tiny it was, fill with warmth, changing those emotionless pools into something softer and more yielding that never ceased to make Harry's heard to do a little jig in his chest. That was normal between friends, wasn't it?

"Now eat. If you want to be up and moving sooner, then this will help you." Kuzuki already recovered from Harry's Eskimo kiss attack, much to Harry's dismay, but he still accepted the pleasantly warm bowl graciously as he inhaled the aroma curiously.

"That was unfair." Harry informed the assassin who sat on the side of his bed mildly before tucking in his food. Concentrating onto holding the spoon, he bit the tip of tongue, as he dipped it into the sweetly smelling broth and lifted it up to his lips.

Or attempted to - the usually smooth movement was shaky and Harry's brows furrowed with irritation. Why was such a simple movement so very hard, dammit?

The higher the spoon traveled, the shakier his hand was, and just before he could get it in his mouth, the trembling was so bad that the contents of the spoon spilled over, causing him to curse with frustration as the spoon plopped back - only to be halted in its' descent by a warm hand on his wrist, steadying Harry's arm and preventing another disaster in the making.

Flushing, Harry ducked head, feeling a shame well over him. He ought to be better now already but he had so much trouble with such a simple thing like getting the spoon to his mouth…

He was pathetic.

The hand on his wrist squeezed it gently before releasing it and then, there was a palm on Harry's cheek, lifting his head up to look into those serious gray eyes.

"You are one of the strongest people I've ever known." Kuzuki 's quiet voice whispered through the room. "Whether you are able to get the spoon to your mouth or not."

His quiet, sincere words caused the edges of Harry's mouth to tremble - at first, only a little, but then the trembling became uncontrollable, and those green eyes filled with tears.

"Really?" Harry had to swallow around a huge knot in his throat to choke that simple word out. "Are you not tired of taking care of me like that yet?" He closed his eyes and shakily inhaling the oh so painful air.

"If our positions would be switched, would you think me as pathetic if I couldn't feed myself without your help?" Kuzuki returned the question, unconsciously allowing his palm to sneak further to the site of Harry's face, enough that his fingers were tickled by Harry's mess of a hair.

Shocked green eyes stared at his. "I'd never!" Harry snapped out, incredulous that Kuzuki even though Harry would be capable of doing something like that.

"Then you have no reason of believing me to do the same in this situation." Kuzuki rebuffed, slender black eyebrows furrowed with a tiny smidgen of frustration at Harry's hard-headedness as he glared back at the watery green eyes. "It's quite dishonorable, not to mention disheartening that you would think of me - and of yourself - so little."

Chastened, Harry turned that thought in his head.

"But I don't want to be a burden." He said, his voice quiet, and the knot in his throat loosening a little.

"And you aren't." Grey eyes softened a little as Kuzuki stared at his still mortified friend. "If I hadn't wanted to be here and take care of you, I wouldn't have been. This weakness of yours will pass, just give it time."

Slowly, Harry nodded, but he still cautiously eyed Kuzuki.

"And if it won't? What then?" He bit his lip, his eyes shuttering as if already expecting the rebuke for his question, causing Kuzuki to get angry at whoever crushed his friend's self-esteem so thoroughly he now couldn't afford himself to slack on even such a simple thing as recovering from horrific injuries.

"Then I will still feed you. Until you are sixty-four and more." He replied, his voice matter of fact, causing Harry to bark out a startled laughter.

"Will you still need me; will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four?" He teased back, amused.

"Yes." Kuzuki's answer was firm and surprisingly solemn.

Harry paused, his breath catching in the back of his lungs for a completely different reason now, and that painful knot in his throat was trembling before slowly releasing itself.

"Well. Don't mind me if I will hold you up to it." He said slowly, feeling warmth spreading across his cheeks. His eyes wanted to dart away, but he stubbornly held them pinned onto the gray orbs in front of him.

A small hint of smile appeared on the assassin's face.

"Don't mind if I keep it up." That said, Kuzuki picked up the spoon and began feeding his now completely flustered but a tiny bit happier friend.

* * *

The meal being done, and Kuzuki returning from wherever he had gone with an empty bowl, the five of them relaxed behind the table with Xanxus, his mother and Kuzuki enjoying their _gelato_ while both Kirei and Kiritsugu abstained from the dessert, with a small chat about inconsequential things like weather, city's best spots and the like.

"You said we were Xanxus' Guardians." Kirei finally began the opening salvo. "Why's that and what do you expect of us?"

Kiritsugu's eyebrow twitched at being addressed as the bratty pain in the ass' Guardian, but he kept silence. Information was information, after all.

Fiamma paused in her enjoyment of pistachio-macchiato-pineapple mix to look at the priest warily. Even if they seemed like good people, she wasn't so stupid to be immediately trustful of complete strangers but….

Releasing the spoon from her mouth and picking another spoonful of _gelato_ , she hummed thoughtfully.

"I do have a minor Flame Sight." She finally revealed. "Not much - it's on and off, and thus not really reliable, but I know my Xanxus is a strong Sky." She stared into those cold brown eyes from under her eyelashes, contemplating just how much could she trust those strangers.

"Like I have told you before, _prete_ ," She addressed Kirei grimly. "When you have Flames, the only path to live is through Mafia."

She didn't see it, but Xanxus' eyes widened with betrayal at her frank answer.

She always told him that he would be great, but she never, ever even hinted that this greatness shtick awaited him in that cesspit he had desperately tried to avoid for so long…

…. The mafia.

A bitter truth.

"But I don't _want_ to be in the fucking mafia!" He burst out, slamming his fist on the table, causing his mother to jerk with surprise.

She blinked before regaining her equilibrium. "Xanxus, it's inevitable." Xanxus scowled at her, crossing his arms on his small chest defiantly.

"And _why_ , pray tell, is it so fucking _inevitable?"_ He seethed. He wanted to get out of the gutter of poverty, but finding out that this fucking Sky business was a guarantee to throw him smack dab in the middle of freaking _Mafia_ of all things was a no-no.

But Xanxus had all intentions to give that Mafia business a middle finger, whatever it would take.

"Xanxus, _language!"_ His mother barked back at him sharply, but Xanxus didn't cow. Instead, he glared at her even harder.

"I will use damn well _any_ language I so choose because it's my fucking _life_ we are talking about here!" He snapped back, ire visible on his face, and there was a flash of… something zinging up his spine, prompting him to straighten up in his chair even further.

 _He ought to press more._ Something whispered to him - that something that saved his neck in more than a couple of uncomfortable or dangerous situations. And Xanxus, like any good little street rat valued this tiny voice's insight.

He leaned forward, staring in his mother's surprised dark eyes. "You always told me to avoid trouble. As far as I am concerned, Mafia is the biggest fucking trouble imaginable, and you really have to want me dead to suggest, of all things, to go to Vongola and do what? Show off those Sky Flames and then ask the assholes to kindly take me in, teach me the ways of murder and _of_ fucking _course_ , all other illegal joys you've preached to me they were too dangerous for me to dabble in! " He snapped.

A moment later, a slap echoed through the room, leaving him stunned with a throbbing cheek as he looked at his mother who was standing in front of him like mythical Fury, so great was her rage.

 _"Stai zitto, sei ingrate figlio!"_ His mother snapped back, her usually dim eyes aglow with fury. "I didn't _ask_ to have a child with a Flame! In fact, I would've been _relieved_ if you had been Flameless, because this way, you could at least have some way to get your feet up to so-called _honest society!"_ She sneered the last two words with contempt, her hands balling at her sides as she trembled with fury.

"But instead, you were born with golden ticket to a good life, even if it would be in the shadow of crime! And you know what? For looking so _pristine_ , so _innocent_ , those do-gooders you want to join, they can be just as depraved and merciless like the worst _Mafiosi,_ but instead of being faced with a knife or a gun or an assassin, they kill you softly and slowly with their so-called kindness and understanding!"

Xanxus shrank back into the chair at her forceful words. But his mother didn't stop. "You could have any other Flame –Sun, Rain, Storm, whichever one! And you would be at the mercy of a Sky who would choose whether to accept or reject the bond between you two! Do you know what rejection means? Well, do you!?"

She towered over him, the ancient goddess of anger and Xanxus bit his lip as he tried to glare at her further, but something within him cowed at her words.

"What?" One word. One person. Kiritsugu.

His mother's eyes sought the assassin's, as she calmed down a little. "Rejection is when Sky - or Element - if they are strong enough, rejects their counterpart. The rejection can be mild and not having any consequences, to being so horrific that the Elements or Sky, who particularly keen on bonding, but have been rejected for various reasons, fall into what we call a Discord." And ugly shudder wracked her as she hugged herself, trying to chase off the imaginary chill, her eyes wide, wild and unseen. "Insanity." She whispered. "If you are lucky, you are put down like mad dog, a shot in the head to end the agony. If not…" She bit her lip hard enough to draw the blood – "Vindice."

Kiritsugu's eyes widened with recognition and horror. He had seen those only once, and even that by a chance… but this once was more than enough. Those misery filled creatures, chasing after ultimate justice, a parody of the Counter Guardians at their worst, doomed to live an eternity and a half, without any respite in sight.

She licked her lower lip as she looked from one person to another, until her sight stopped at her son, the sun of her life. Her own little Sky, her amazing miracle.

Her eyes watered.

"Because of that, it is a blessing that you are a _Sky_ , as that way, you at least have a choice on whom to Bond to yourself." She continued, her voice surprisingly steady for such a nerve-wracking subject. "A strong Sky means strong Elements thus more protection for the Sky. Strong Sky and Elements make for a strong core for their _famiglia._ And you, Xanxus, carry the blood of Timoteo di Vongola, the ninth _don_ of Vongola _famiglia_ , who is the ruler of the underworld. As his Heir and successor, you would be protected and taken care of, more than I could've given to you, even if it's on the wrong side of the law."

Wordlessly, Xanxus jumped off the chair and ran out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Fiamma slumped into the chair like a doll whose strings had been abruptly cut, seemingly aging for a good number of years.

"That kind of a selfish reasoning… I can understand, but where does it leaves you?" Kiritsugu's quiet words cut through the silence, an ice cold knife through slab of butter, torturously slow and awkward and so, so very obvious.

Fiamma smiled a small tired smile, even as she felt tears gathering in her eyes.

"Left behind, as always." She concluded her words a deprecating, stark, bitter truth, the invisible ashes slipping off her tongue to mourn the silent self-condemnation.

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _Only once did it happen that some Mafiosi had been stupid enough to think to steal the seemingly unattached Sky. Seven Famiglias had thought that the boy's lack of full set of Guardians meant he was weak and ripe for picking._

 _They couldn't have been more wrong if they tried. It had taken six hours for the Guardians to find the culpable famiglias, get in, and then raze them to the ground - to the extent even the ancient ruins of Catharga at the moment of destruction would seem to be positively_ flourishing _with life when compared with the seven foolish Famiglias' strongholds._

 _And what was worse… it had taken only that seemingly incomplete set of Guardians to wreak the destruction._

 _Kiritsugu's impeccable skill with explosives was later on admired and then imitated by one Gokudera Hayato, much to certain tuna's dismay. The man's skill was unparalleled, what with him blowing up three famiglias in a short order._

 _Soichirou had destroyed the two bases he was assigned to in a manner, typical of an assassin – unseen and unheard of till the end, until the sun rose up to shed its light to the deathly silent properties drenched with blood of their occupants._

 _Kirei, on the other hand, didn't bother with being subtle. As a pious man - and one of the two famiglias' distaste of anything holy – it was bound to be loud, explosive and the kind of a massacre that would never be spoken of, as if recalling it even in the faintest of whispers could awaken the Holy Calamity once again._

 _The consequent fear, awe, admiration and greed made for some very strenuous relationships in the underground, as the Monster Triad, as it was later named, didn't want to align with anyone, no matter their threats, offers and blatant bribes they had been presented with._


	16. Chapter 16

_**Summary:**_ I don't own the characters or song. Really. Fingers crossed and all that.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Next chapter. You know what, young Xanxus is being an utter, irrepressible brat. And of course, it shows. He commandeered almost entire chapter all by his lonesome. Another thing. As much as I love writing, I am almost burned out by the amount of work in real life. So this will be a last chapter for a while, but I will try and start updating at the end of this month if even possible. But right now, I am feeling wrung out because many things are going about and changing. Thank you and hopefully see you soon with a next chapter!

 _ **Warning:**_ _ **AU-verse**_ on multiple scales, Xanxus being a brat and Kirei being a sadist. What else is new?

* * *

 _Buddy you're a boy make a big noise  
Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day  
You got mud on yo' face  
You big disgrace  
Kickin' your can all over the place  
Singin'  
We will we will rock you  
We will we will rock you_

 _('We Will Rock You' by Queen)_

* * *

Xanxus saw red. If he hadn't gotten out when he had, he was sure to hail a slew of not so kind words at the woman who had brought him into that shitty, choice less world.

What kind of mother pressed their child to fucking _chose_ the path of crime after teaching the said child right from wrong for just about the child's entire life? It was like she placed a knife in his hand with the order to either fucking kill or die himself with no other way to resolve the issue!

The six-year old boy seethed, his usually reddish brown eyes becoming lighter by the minutes, the brown receding and bringing the red forward when his fury mounted.

It. Was. Not. Fair.

He glared toward the side of nicer districts, willing to fucking _combust_ themselves into rubble. A nice conflagration would do his betrayed, burned out soul good. It was fucking _unfair_ that some people got all the choices what to do with their shitty lives, and here Xanxus was, poked and prodded into one way only just because he had the _misfurtune_ of having those Flames tucked somewhere within himself.

His feet carried him, as fast as they could, to his usual haunt of his gang, unconsciously, even as Xanxus used the worst words he had in his vocabulary to mentally express his dissatisfaction at the clusterfuck that was now his life. His face was scrunched into a perpetual scowl, not even sparing an iota of energy to have his usual more or less neutral mask on.

Even with his pace as it was, Xanxus still felt on the verge of exploding.

* * *

Ciro flinched when the doors into their little haunt banged open, for a moment fearing that one of the other gangs discovered their hideout and was now attacking them. Some of the other kids cringed or flinched , but stayed put when they saw just who caused such a ruckus.

Fabia yelped, swearing as she prickled herself with a needle - she was repairing her skirt (Privately, Ciro though that making mini-skirt into practically a hip length _belt_ \- or so it seemed, so short the skirt was - was not repairing at _all_ , but he was wise enough to keep mum on the issue), before she glared at the intruder, already opening her mouth to verbally flail the fool who dared to make such amount of noise.

 _"Che cazzo sei pensato sei stai facendo!"_ She barked out, her jade green, pretty eyes flashing with ire. She was a lovely sixteen years old, with a mass of inky black hair done in a messy braid, clad with a cut off gray crop top with almost sinfully short jeans shorts. She may have been lovely, but her temper was anything but, and despite her beauty, she didn't earn her nickname, _Strega di Lame,_ for nothing.

Completely red eyes zeroed on her, stopping her in her tracks. Ciro paled as his blood turned into instant ice flooding his veins, freezing him on his place.

 _Oh, shit._ She shouldn't have done that. _Witch of Blades_ or not, she really shouldn't.

 _"Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca!"_ The newcomer snapped out, causing Fabia to pale with fury, and the next moment, a blade whistled past the brat's cheek, nicking it just so.

 _"What_ did you say to me, brat? Do you really want to eat your own balls for breakfast?" She snarled back, throwing the garment she had been working on to the side and of-fucking-course, that wasn't Ciro's day.

"I said. Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Xanxus ground out and there was some kind of heat haze around his clenched fists. Ciro blinked, stumped. That had never happened before.

Fabia narrowed her eyes. "I will fucking shut up when you will fucking act up like a civilized man and not unmannered ape like you do right now!" She snapped back, her voice ice cold, and Ciro, along with some other members cautiously edged away from her. No need to be used for a live target practice, after all.

(Ciro was once dumb enough to piss the girl off. Suffice to say, his left buttock suffered for his dumbassity.)

Xanxus tensed. His jaw clenched and his previously dual-colored eyes were now completely red. "So we have to suffer through your bitch-fest once per month, _every goddamn time_ , and not to yap anything or heavens forbid, you go ape-shit on us. But when _I_ am angry - because my own _mother_ is toting me off to the fucking _mafia_ \- you say that I ought to be fucking _happy_ , is that it?" His voice was deathly calm, causing Ciro to recoil with horror, both at Xanxus' sheer balls in going against _Fabia_ of all people and the contents of what he said.

Fabia stopped twirling her blade - where did she even _hide_ it, Ciro did and didn't want to know. Her clothes were already skin-tight enough and _that_ opened for some _very_ interesting scenarios Ciro very resolutely didn't want to think about for the continued safety of his own balls.

"And _that_ , of course, gives you _all_ the rights to throw a temper tantrum." She sneered back, casually throwing the knife upward with a flick of her wrist, its polished blade glinting like the body of a slightly bigger sardine in the light, all silver and dark as it dipped back to her hand. "What of it, brat?"

Xanxus' previously surprise-loosened shoulders bunched back into a tense knot as he glared back at her. "Witch or not, you don't _ever_ tell me what I should or shouldn't do." He growled out, his voice low and tense with being at the end of the rope before he strode past her, her eyes wide and surprised at his all too calm demeanor.

Only when the door behind him slammed shut, the tense atmosphere in the room loosened.

"You fucked up." Ciro was the first to address Fabia, but the witch of blades only sniffled haughtily as she dropped back into her hay-filled bag, casually picking the garment she was working before hurricane Xanxus deemed to enter the building.

"Oh sorry, did you want me to coddle him?" She cooed back, her face momentarily twisted into a mock-sympathetic cast before she suddenly stuck her tongue at him. "The world is bad and wide, darling, and he will get over it, and so will you."

Ciro shook his head, already pitying the poor, foolish girl.

"You've fucked up." He repeated as he rose from his place with a grunt. "And the sad thing is you don't even _know_ how badly you've done it."

Xanxus may not be one to be coddled often, but for his trust to be spurned like Fabia had done it just a few moments before… well. Ciro wouldn't be surprised that when things calmed down, their already small group would be down one particular bitchy witch… somehow.

* * *

Xanxus, however had his own set of problems. Instead of getting calmer, like he expected himself to do, when he came to his tiny sanctuary, Fabia's words apparently poked the beast in his chest with all the subtlety of hammer hitting an anvil.

He clawed at his chest, where his heart was racing, and racing, seemingly getting father with each _thump-thump_ , and it wasn't long until the _thump-thump_ changed into the _thumpthump._ His already heightened senses were now even more sensitive to the point it was almost painful, because each and every thing was taken in and magnified and _Santa Vergine Maria,_ Xanxus couldn't _deal_ –

Choking, Xanxus fell on his knees, belatedly feeling the sweat beading on his hypersensitive skin - he felt each and every strand of his hair and the fabric against his skin, but that was not as important as the sheer rage dwelling within him, causing his body to tremble with an effort to hold it within, but it was only a stop gap measure as he stumbled toward the small table, barely reaching it in time to catch himself as he leaned on his hands, palms pressing against the old wood tightly and if Xanxus were more attentive, he would have noticed his palms being burned into the wooden surface , but he didn't. His eyesight blurred - both with rage and tears, they were interchangeable at this point, and Xanxus _exploded._

With a scream, Xanxus punched the ratty table with all his might - which may not have been much, because he was still a six-year old, but adding to it the shitty present he never wanted to be burdened with – the object was abruptly engulfed into orange and reddish-striped flames - just for a moment, and then, Xanxus's hands and Xanxus went through it like it had been made out of _paper mache_ \- and the boy's tiny fists hit the floor, the haze still present and alive before it abruptly burned out, causing him to see a lot of scorched black before he felt tired - so very, very tired, causing him to crash on the site, not even registering the door crashing open and someone hurrying into the room.

* * *

It was like supernova. Blindingly bright, violent and all around, _loud._

If Kirei had been that kind of a person, he would have grimaced at the pain that bratty pain in the ass - now also a pain in his mind - caused to him. Being spiritually sensitive, especially on a scale Kirei was, was no good, and even if it enabled the young priest to follow the brat with less trouble than usual - Xanxus' mix of energy was already a blaring beacon if one knew how to read it, but right now, Kirei felt vindicated enough to borrow a page out of Kiritsugu's book and trash the brat's behind.

And why was that he was now some kind of a personal retriever of the said bratty nuisance, anyhow?

This time, Kirei scowled as he sped up; leaving behind startled people he breezed past in his running toward the brat's location.

Half an hour - just half an hour of blessed peace, even if they did have to deal with that crazy woman posturing as Xanxus' mother, and then this kind of shit happens.

Kirei was now even more inclined to believe that Xanxus was some kind of human-shaped magnet for E-rank luck. Because he couldn't explain their string of misfortune in any other logical sense. Before the brat came, they were on a good track to deal with their problems, but then, the kid somehow wiggled in Harry's heart enough for his best friend to take the dive into Freccia's stronghold as a swapped-out hostage, get lashed half to death and then that joyous-not!-piece of news that they are more or less destined to be dragged into Mafia life, whether they wanted to or not, just because they had Flames.

Of course Xanxus' mother just had to be insane enough to suggest that they were _Xanxus'_ Guardians of all things.

Kirei would have loved to correct the woman or at least allow Kiritsugu to loudly and vocally deny her assumption, but in the name of getting more information, he held his tongue. He was now regretting that very much - they may have gotten less of info, but at least they would have avoided any Xanxus-induced idiocy like this one.

Hearing the screams and commotion in the distance, Kirei's eyes narrowed.

Yes. A certain brat was _very_ due for another dose of spanking, but this time at Kirei's hand.

* * *

This was _so_ not his day. Ciro swore inwardly as he tried to deal with the chaotic aftermath of the sudden explosion of Xanxus' little abode. He should have known that getting Fabia into their group would have consequences - but even he, as careful as he was, couldn't have predicted that the witch's words would have such an effect on their tiny leader.

All of them - eleven in total, a relatively small group, were a tightly knit bunch, with Xanxus to lead them. At first, if was Lorenzo, but after he had been killed in one of the underground fights, Xanxus, his unofficial protégé, became the de-facto leader. Some of people grumbled and bitched about it, but their doubts were quickly dispelled by the results of Xanxus' leadership. Even if the brat was small, he was fierce and had no compunctions in not protecting what he termed as his own like a mad dog. More than one idiot had assumed Xanxus was an easy prey just because he was too small, too young and too weak-looking to be a threat to them, but they were quickly-and painfully corrected in their assumptions.

Ciro should have known that the peace, however little they had, was too good to last forever. First, Xanxus' involvement with Freccia, of all people - the lanky teenager was a good information broker and he had a fairly good idea that Xanxus was one of the four Horsemen themselves, but because Xanxus held mum on the issue, he kept silent.

But then, _this._ All of them, street brats as they were, knew that it was a real possibility they will live and die on the shadow side of the human life - without any education, working hard, menial labors, live through - or not - the dangerous, life-threatening situations and deal with the lawless side more often than not. Hope was a scarcity, and education was even more scare than it - at least _normal_ education was.

However, Xanxus was a bright kid. It would've been a shame, Ciro pondered, to have this bright fireball of emotions and protectiveness waste away in the slums. And to find out that the kid's own mother was piushing for him getting involved with mafia… _the_ mafia, if Ciro understood Xanxus' words right, the upper echelons who could use some kind of a mysterious power…. It was chillingly disheartening.

Ciro knew about this because one upon a time, he had a friend with the same mysterious power. They came for him, but Simon declined. Three days later, he had been found with a block of concrete around his feet in the river, dead.

And of course, that fucking bitch, Fabia, just had to open her idiotic mouth and nag Xanxus, who was already at the verge of Activating… whatever he had… and elegantly push the boss-brat over.

Ciro was the one who followed Xanxus to soothe him and to deal with the fucking situation before something really exploded into their faces.

When he crashed the door open, hoping against hope that he would be still in time to salvage the situation…

He was already too late.

The heat hit him into the face, his ears deafened by Xanxus' howl of rage, and he was the witness of the brat fucking pulverizing the desk and a good chunk of the floor beneath it with the blaze of orange-reddish striped flames. For a moment, Ciro dumbly thought…

 _'Oh. So that was how was it like when Vesuvius erupted_.' Xanxus' sooty face and red eyes with his hair sticking every-which way and his face still in a pure rage - even if Ciro only saw it from the side - _le Madonna e tutti I santi -_ in that moment, Ciro believed he had seen the visage of the _il Diavolo_ himself.

Then, Xanxus' eyes rolled up and he slumped into the mess he had inadvertently crashed, leaving Ciro swearing as he hurried forward, carefully crouching beside he boy's boy and checking the heartbeat on the carotid artery.

Ciro breathed a relieved sigh when he felt a heartbeat. Weak, yes, but it was here and that was for now, the most important thing.

"You will be the death of me, _gattino ragazzo_." He sighed at the unconscious pain in the ass in the shape of his tiny boss.

Hauling the said brat in his arms carefully, he turned around and unbent from his crouched position, grunting slightly as he hauled up the boy, only to freeze when his eyes connected with the dark brown ones of a tall priest.

* * *

Kirei didn't really bother with niceties when he entered the shed, startling the teenagers here into swearing, threats and the little ones to hide away from him.

Even that girl with her knives - cute, really, how she tried to threated him to stop or she would fillet him into tiny itty bitty pieces with her apple knife – was ignored in the favor of Kirei striding toward the door from whence came the scent of burning and that feeling of irritation against his spiritual senses was now even more pronounced, but thankfully… muted somehow?

Nobody dared to stop him. Kirei being a priest and having an intimidating presence from the get-go, also helped. Not that their interference would mean anything more than buzzing of an annoying fly near Kirei's ear, anyway.

He came in just in time to see that lanky teenager to lift up the brat into a princess carry - Kirei's inner sadist quickly shelved the info for the hours of teasing and torturing the now unconscious brat with –

 _Gattino._ Kirei would've smiled if he could. He already had trouble repressing a tiny smirk trying to show itself on his face. _Gattino ragazzo_ Kitty brat… Exactly what Xanxus was.

The teen with a sallow face froze as he stood up and finally noticed the young Executor.

 _"Pace, figlio._ I came for the one you hold in your arms."

The sallow-faced guy stepped back warily.

"How did you know?" He snapped, his tobacco-yellowed teeth glinting threateningly in the weak light. It was some kind of a wonder that Xanxus' little fire show didn't explode anything else than the desk, really.

Kirei inclined his head. "I am his teacher." Short, sweet, simple and to the point. And by a dumbfounded expression of the lanky teen's face, utterly perplexing truth.

(Kirei _so_ loved being truthful. Nothing else could discombobulate and bewilder his opponents than stating the truth, truth and nothing but the truth and then watch them struggle through trying to find any falsities in it.)

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _Reborn gritted his teeth. It severely rankled at his professional pride than there existed someone who was more than a match for his skills… and to add the insult to injury, the man in question didn't care. The gaze in those empty black eyes was uncaring, dispassionate and clinical, as if Reborn was just one more corpse to be put to the ground. The man didn't fear him, nor was he angry by his provocations. And this, more than anything, unsettled the Black Sun. The Storm wielder he had faced with was unlike anyone he had gone against before – irritatingly similar in tactics and overall MO while not above taking the pot shots when opportunity allowed for it. But his strange ability of tearing apart the Flames was the_ worst. _Reborn was good, but that kind of sheer_ brutality _was beyond even his scope of abilities or reasoning._

 _He shuddered to think what could've happened if he were that man's sole target. If he was the Black Sun, this man was a black hole incarnated – destroying everything, no matter the might or power. He still felt queasy at the memory of this placid man practically razing three enemy Famiglias down to the ground… in a single night._


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any of this aside the four universes colliding and telling the original timelines to take a hike.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ I've got a jar of fics, I've got a jar of fics and guess what's in it?

... Fics?

Oh. How did you _know?_

Jokes aside, back and revving for more. It will be slow-going, as my real life obligations are still here, but the story is up and running. And for those who were wondering if there was a poll where Xanxus will go, to Vongola or with the bunch of assassins and their mysterious Sky, there wasn't any pool to begin with. However, the original timeline had been done to death, and because I want to introduce the kitty brat to a certain character and see the fireworks, the story line had been changed appropriately. In Kirei's immortal words, rejoice.

Warnings: AU-verse on multiple scales, not really pink and fluffy unicorns.

* * *

 _As he came into the window  
It was the sound of a crescendo  
He came into her apartment  
He left the bloodstains on the carpet  
She ran underneath the table  
He could see she was unable  
So she ran into the bedroom  
She was struck down, it was her doom_

 _…You've been hit by  
You've been hit by  
A smooth criminal_

 _('Smooth Criminal'_ by Michael Jackson _)_

* * *

He didn't know what happened. He didn't _remember_. All he could feel was that heavy weight of being tired, like his very bones were made of lead, along with muscled and his eyelids were especially heavy. Even his breathing came in and out laboriously, but thankfully easier than moving his limbs. What he did remember was that he had been angry - so very _angry_ \- and then, the heat which abruptly disappeared into darkness.

His nose twitching slightly, he smelled clean lining, and against his own will, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Brain still muzzy, uncomfortably so, and too much for his liking, the small boy forced himself to open his eyes.

Almost instantly his eyelids closed again, and growling slightly – which reminded him of his far too parched-out throat – Xanxus tried again. And again. He wanted to be angry - furious even, because his stupid body was reacting so slowly - _why the hell was he so slow_ – and then tried again. But even his fury was muffled, it's prickles not penetrating the thick calm of whatever was coursing through his veins.

It took some five tries to get his body to accede to his demands, and his memory was slowly sneaking back into the relevant slots in his brain.

He had pulverized that desk.

Now more red than reddish brown eyes blinked sluggishly.

 _Good._

Xanxus' was surprisingly indifferent to the feat, but aside from small irritation, while he ought to be in a towering fury, he was really too exhausted to feel anything more.

 _Mafia._ A single word that now didn't mean so much of a salvation, but damnation.

Xanxus' mouth curved down unhappily. Just because he was 'special' he was expected to accede to their stupid laws and forsake everything he had been working for - admittedly, it was not much, but it was _his_ \- and be their little bitch, Sky Flames or no Sky Flames.

Yes, Xanxus wanted power. Who didn't? And he ought to jump with glee that he was practically royalty, if what his mother told him, was true. He ought to grab the offered chance with glee and be on his merry way.

His fists curled at his sides as he inhaled the scents again - myrrh, gunpowder and something that was freshly-brewed tea, a home, like a wide open sky. Blinking again, his surroundings revealed themselves to be - Xanxus' eyes widened with shock – Harry's room.

 ** _Harry!_**

Making a sound, Xanxus began to wiggle on the bed. Or he intended to wiggle, but he found out the hard way that aside minor movements, his body was particularly uncooperative on the issue, causing him to emit an unhappy growl. His muscles were like water, or overcooked spaghetti, while they were where he expected them to be, they were resistant to his prods to get the fuck out and find what happened.

Licking his lips, he became aware of yet another issue.

Xanxus grimaced.

Fucking _hell,_ did he _really_ have to take a piss _now_ out of all times?

Belatedly, he felt the tips of his ears burn with the humiliation.

Another demanding twinge of his bladder and yes, yes, he _had_ to.

Xanxus' lips pressed together. He would be damned if he did the deed in here. He was no fucking barbarian, thank you very much! He was a big boy, he was one of the Four Riders of Apocalypse, and hells to no, no fucking bladder, even if it was his own, would win over Xanxus…!

A strong twinge in his underbelly made him bolt upright - or at least try to.

Instead, he flailed like a helpless fish, trashing around the bed, increasingly panicked when his muscles were still denying him their obedience but he - he had to go to pee!

 _Right. This. Instant!_

He had to make some kind of noise, because someone's head poked into the room, and the visitor's dark eyebrows quirked when their owner saw the state the little boy was in.

"Oh? Having trouble, are we?"

And that was the fucking last straw for Xanxus.

He would get to that fucking toilet on his own power even if it _killed_ him.

Somehow, he hauled himself up - with a herculean effort and he briefly panicked, feeling some moisture escaping, but to _hell_ with it –

* * *

Kiritsugu blinked when the small brat hauled himself up, his small face briefly clouded with a panicked expression, before he hopped down the bed and straight out marched - even if his march was more akin to a walk to a very drunk sailor wibble-wobble on an even road - to the toilet. Or he would have, if he hadn't swayed dangerously and only Kiritsugu's quick reflexes stopped him from crashing on the floor.

Luckily, they managed to get to toilet just in time for Xanxus to be relieved of the bothersome liquid, even if both of them studiously avoided remembering that a) Kiritsugu had to use a manual approach to help Xanxus and b) Xanxus needed help with aiming for the toilet bowl.

When the entire affair was done and over with, both of them washed and dried their hands and of course, Xanxus, the little brat he was, slumped into unconsciousness right away.

Kiritsugu sweat dropped, but hauled the boy in his arms back to the bed anyway.

(Later in his years, Xanxus would deny to his dying day and beyond that the first time he intentionally managed to activate Dying Will Mode it was just for the sake of taking a piss. Literally. This was the one sole secret he would take with himself in his grave, thank you very much. )

Next time Xanxus woke up, it was to the unwelcome mug of that shitty priest.

Now more clear headed and relieved that it wasn't Kiritsugu because Xanxus would've surely _died_ of mortification if the assassin in question would've been the one to hold vigil at his bed, but it was bad - if not worse - to have _Kirei_ of all people wait on him to wake up.

Talk about a bad luck.

Xanxus shivered when the priest bent down to test his forehead. Kirei's hand, as smooth and warm as it was, should've felt comforting, but instead, Xanxus got an image of a big feline gently prodding a small mouse to see if its prey was alive still.

The mouse in question would have all the luck to pretend it was dead and thus probably an infinitesimal chance to fool the cat. Xanxus, on the other side, was stuck with misfortune of knowing that no amount of pretense would save him from the painful and humiliating disciplining he would have to undergo in the near future.

Kiritsugu was bad.

Xanxus gulped.

Kirei would be….

Dead brown eyes caught his mostly red ones.

"You know what you've done was wrong." It was not even a fucking question. Kirei didn't give him that kind of mercy. Instead, it was a statement, plain and simple.

Shrinking back into the bed, Xanxus could do nothing more but gulp and nod. Any time now, the priest would grab him by the scruff of his neck, place him across his lap, and hello, pain. Those forked eyebrows quirked up slightly, as if Kirei knew what was Xanxus thinking and was entertained by it, but surely, that had to be false, right? _Right?_

Xanxus swallowed.

 _"Scusi?"_ He squeaked out, just like a tiny little mouse would. Kirei leaned forward, and Xanxus already heavily thudding heart was now racing madly because any time now - !

He cringed when the hand reached for him, readying himself for the inevitable punishment, only for the hand to suddenly land on his hair and ruffle it semi-roughly, freezing the poor boy in his tracks with an unexpectedly kind gesture.

What kind of game was this now?

"Rest now." Xanxus blinked dumbly at the order. The shitty priest even had the galls to smile at him! _Smile!_

"We'll discuss your punishment when you recover."

With that parting remark, Kirei left him alone, freaked out and his eyes still wide with fright, heart racing like that of a terrified rabbit's.

And why, oh _why,_ were Kirei's mild-mannered, and dare Xanxus think, kind words so more terrifying than even the worst threats he had ever gotten?

Suddenly, Xanxus wished it would be a long, long time until he recovered.

(Preferably never.)

(Much to Xanxus' dismay, that option wasn't even an option or shade thereof.)

* * *

Kirei eyed the hesitant boy at the door uncaringly.

Xanxus had on his mask of bravado - or at least he tried to hold onto it well enough that he would convince himself that he was brave and able to bear any hurt coming for him, but unfortunately for the boy, his little mask was a joke in front of the three assassins' eyes. Harry was mercifully sleeping again, due to both Kirei and Kuzuki using their special brand of healing/relaxation on him. Their Sky - and wasn't _that_ a strange thought - was considerate and all, but all of them had a feeling Xanxus' pride would break if one of the witnesses to his soon-to-be delivered humiliation would've been Harry.

Last time they got away simply by virtue of Harry convincingly faking it. This time, there was no need for Harry to fake it, simply because he had been put under so deep it would take a miracle or at least something extremely loud to wake him up.

(Harry had an inkling what would happen, but got along with it anyway. He got a gut feeling it was better to let it happen than protest… at least for now. And it would be easier to bear with cranky Xanxus than a bawling one.)

"Come here." The priest commanded, already sitting on the chair, ready to deliver the punishment.

Biting his lip, the boy swallowed and approached him, looking at the three assassins apprehensively. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. And then, the next one. He was clearly reluctant to approach Kirei, but stubbornness prevailed and five steps later, he stood in front of the priest.

"You know why I am doing that." It was more of a comment than a question, but Xanxus still scrunched his nose and bobbed his head sharply, trying not to bolt away from the approaching danger as soon as humanly possible.

Despite spending many hours in their presence, they still had the ability to terrify the shit out of him. And Xanxus had already earned Kiritsugu's ire.

Which was a kind, gentle _puppy_ in comparison with Kirei's annoyance.

He couldn't sleep for a good three hours after that shitty priest left the room. It was kind of stupid and unfair and Xanxus sorely wished that Kirei would've dealt his punishment back then instead of leaving him to stew in his own failure and sick anticipation of the main event.

Reluctantly, he approached and tried not to flinch when he was placed across the priest's lap.

It was the most humiliating and terrifying position to be in…

…and Xanxus' pride would surely be shattered and dead hundred deaths over before this little punishment would be concluded.

He opened his mouth to say something –

-but then promptly forgot it when a blinding white pain assuaged his senses, originating from his posterior.

And then another.

And another.

And his world zeroed into the pain, all-encompassing and relentless in its intensity.

And… dammit, Xanxus promised himself he wouldn't cry! Real men didn't cry, and Xanxus was one of them so why - !

When the punishment ended, Xanxus didn't care that he was bawling like a spoiled little brat or that he saw everything blurry, courtesy of his tears leaking from his eyes faster than his eyesight could compensate for them.

He sobbed, great, hitching breaths, and both his bottom and lungs hurt as he was unceremoniously popped up and helped to stand on his own feet. Furious at himself, he wiped his tears, but without avail as the new ones replaced the wiped out ones even faster than he dried them out.

Nobody spoke, giving the small boy a chance to regain himself. Xanxus sent a furtive glance to the other two assassins, but he couldn't read their faces.

"Xanxus." The small boy stiffened at the priest's voice addressing him, his still watery eyes looking into those uncaring ones cautiously.

Kirei was still fresh as a daisy, as if he hadn't already spent half an hour in manually correcting Xanxus' behavior via delivering the harshest spanking ever to the boy's miserable behind.

Xanxus would've accepted if Kirei's eyes would've been angry or gleeful, but instead, Kirei looked at him like a smith would at a particularly stubborn slob of metal too unyielding to be melded to the shape he desired.

And that both reassured and unnerved Xanxus in equal measure.

"This time, you got lucky." Kirei's voice was even and would it _kill_ the priest to be a little more human?

"Allow yourself to be a hot head _again_ and next time, the consequences will be much worse than corporal punishment." Kirei's voice was calm, as if he was conversing about weather, but there was intensity to the words that made Xanxus, even as unwilling as he was, listen to the priest.

"As you are a child still, you are forgiven for not thinking ahead. However, you've made Harry worry for you and that is _unacceptable."_ Xanxus flinched. Those words hurt more than his behind. He clenched his teeth and sniffled in an effort to keep back more of those annoying tears.

He didn't mean to worry Harry. Honest! The small boy bit his lip almost to the point of bleeding.

Kirei's face was calm and indifferent, but his eyes now drilled a hole into Xanxus' own, and something within Xanxus - that feral something which had combusted out of him before, shrank back into him, trying to hide within Xanxus' innermost _marrow_ if only to escape something that could be describe only as a confusing mix of hottest day and deceiving dampness of mist. It made some kind of a shroud around Kirei, somehow making him look like he was ten feet tall, and Xanxus was just an insignificant gnat that could be crushed by a mere glare of those dark, pitiless eyes.

Swallowing, Xanxus nodded timidly. "Y-Yes." Any thought of wanting to flee was wiped out of his head, and even if he had them, they would be for naught.

"Your pride was the only thing at stake this time." Kirei continued his glare increasing. "Next time, if you don't keep calm head, it could be your life, or lives of your family. Do you really want to be responsible for their deaths?"

Xanxus froze, his eyes wide with horror what his stupidity could've lead to.

 _'Do you want to be responsible for Harry's death?'_ True, Kirei didn't say it outright, but the question detonated in Xanxus' brain with all the force of atomic bomb, leaving him feel weak, sick and disgusted with himself.

He opened his mouth and closed it. And opened it again.

 ** _"NO!"_** He burst out. "I - I don't want to kill Harry!" Reddish brown eyes widened and he spalled his hands on his idiotic mouth, inwardly berating himself for blurting out something like this.

The three assassins watched him, judging him and not moving an inch.

Surprisingly, the one who spoke next wasn't Kirei, but Kiritsugu.

"Right now, you are young, weak and a hothead. You don't think ahead. You've been lucky that you've prevailed over your opponents because they underestimated you just because you are a tiny, mouthy brat. But you won't always have such a luxury. There will come a time when you will be confronted by someone bigger, stronger and smarter than you. Someone who won't underestimate you, who will be going straight for your throat and crush you without a thought whether you are a kid or a grown up at the time." Xanxus stared at the Magus Killer, spellbound by his words.

"Being blinded by your pride, rank or simply your way of doing things will cause your death if you allow them. If you are serious about wanting to protect then begin with being humble and keeping your head calm no matter the circumstance. Only then you can go against someone who is bigger, better and older with _maybe_ tenth of a chance of getting the mess resolved in your favor."

Xanxus' spine involuntarily straightened out. "If I want to protect Harry then I have to be calm?" He asked, staring at Kiritsugu, his eyes, still a little watery from pain now getting a hold of the tiny spark of determination, and his small fists clenched at his sides.

Kiritsugu's eyebrows shot up at the brat's question. Really, he should have expected that, but it was still surprising to hear just how much that snot-nosed kid was obsessed with Harry. It would've been funny that Harry managed to tame the half-feral street brat so fast, if it hadn't been so pitiful at the same time. A small crumble of hope and encouragement and the kid was ready, willing and able to be live shield for Kiritsugu's green-eyed friend, not that Harry knew about it.

"Yes. And learn how to _think_ things _through_ when it counts." He affirmed, making Xanxus part his lips in a small 'o' of wonder. Fucking hell, the brat's eyes _sparkled_ at the challenge! Kiritsugu suppressed an incredulous snort at the sight. If nothing else, the brat bounced back surprisingly fast.

It was a sour and bitter memory, just like looking at his younger self in a sense, before everything on Alimango went to hell, literally and figuratively. Kiritsugu's lip curled downward in a barely discernible scowl. At least the brat had a sensible goal, if nothing else…the kitty brat he was.

The brat's head moved into a curt not before he looked from one assassin to another.

"I will. I will protect Harry… even if it kills me." Xanxus announced and for some reason, those words didn't sound funny, coming out of the throat of a six year old boy, but more like of an oath not of what could be but what will definitely happen, no matter the time. Until then Xanxus' still dual-colored irises bled into deep red with a tiny bit of orange thrown in, like tiger's stripes, Xanxus' own baby Flames finally in synergy with their own.

Kuzuki gave out an agreeing little grunt. "And we will hold you to that." The assassin's previously gray irises flashed an enchanting mixture of blue and green for a moment before they faded back into their usual color.

* * *

Fiamma knew she wasn't the brightest or best or most beautiful, and her life was already more or less screwed up, combination of the bad living environment and poor life choices.

But even with the shitty life, she wouldn't have given Xanxus for anything in the world.

She had been involved with mafia ever since she was a little brat, a poor orphan making poor living on the streets. Other girls sold their bodies, but Fiamma had better plan - find a Sky, get impregnated with the man's seed and then… oh, then, life would be _wonderful._

Her luck seemed to hold because somehow, she hooked a Vongola - imagine _that,_ humble her, catching an interest of such a great and powerful man!- and what was even better, the man promised her - he promised her with his sweet words beautiful future… and Fiamma caved, letting her heart loose against all common sense and fall in love.

Her joy was doubled when she found out that she was pregnant. But pregnancy went on, and life became even harder, what with winter and he having to taking care of newborn, but Fiamma held on, hoping and dreaming that her dear Amadeo will come for her.

But months went on, and there was no sound or anything from her beloved. Fiamma was tempted to use the contact Amadeo had given her just in case, but she was stubborn. If Amadeo truly cared for her, then he would come for her and her Xanxus, whisking both of them to better life.

Fiamma prayed. Prayed to Virgin Mary and her Son and God that her little boy would have better life than she did. Prayed that he would have Sky Flames - she would beg and barter with the devil himself if only her baby would have those wondrous, warm flames like Amadeo had.

And her prayers were, six years after she first took her in her arms, so very tiny and with a small, stubborn frown on his chubby face, just like his father's - fulfilled.

And oh, her baby now had three Guardians - three Guardians so strong it made her dizzy when her gift allowed her to sense their strength.

The priest was one of the strongest Suns she had ever met, even stronger than Amadeo's Sun Guardian, and that was saying much, because that hulk of a man was a powerhouse in his own right. That messy haired man - Emiya or something - was a Storm, which would engulf and destroy everything that would dare to harm her precious baby boy like a Storm monster he was. The last one, a gray-eyed man, was quiet and serious and Xanxus didn't really communicate with him, but he was Rain, so vast that it reminded her of ocean, unending and stretching into horizon.

Lately the three Guardians and Xanxus were together almost all the time when Xanxus was awake, and Fiamma was proud, so proud of her little boy for managing to net those Flame monsters. She was grateful that the three of them were teaching Xanxus what they knew, not that she understood much of it, and Xanxus was grumpy as ever, sometimes returning home with bruises upon bruises, and Fiamma was concerned for him. However, Xanxus waved her fretting away, grunting and stumbling up to his room, only to wake up before even the dawn to go back for more.

Fiamma visited the trio once or twice per week, always amazed at Xanxus' turn of luck. The three of them always treated her kindly, and the food, while simple, it was filling and tasty.

But one thing bothered her. Xanxus always talked about Harry, but for all of Fiamma's inquiries, Xanxus' trio of Guardians politely refused to give her any more information about their mysterious friend. Which was strange, considering the man saved Xanxus' life.

Fiamma wanted to thank the poor dear, but no matter how she insisted, the _prete_ always shot down her attempts to make a direct contact with the poor dear.

At first, Fiamma smiled and nodded, accepting the excuse.

A week and a half and still noting.

Fiamma decided enough was enough.

* * *

Her heart thudded, a fist-sized bird in the cage made of ribs as she panted, her breaths short and panicky when she tried to find a safe place to hide from that - that - !

 ** _/Flashback/_**

 _He came suddenly the only warning she got was the shattering of the glass and a dark shadow when he landed on the floor._

 _"So you are the one who caused all the trouble." She didn't see the man's face, but she didn't need to._

 _The shards glittered like tiny pieces of broken star when he stepped closer, prompting her to back away._

 _"W - what are you - !" She wanted to be brave, but only managed to squeak out half of the sentence._

 _"You dared to try and use Vongola, didn't you?" The stranger hummed, tilting his head like a curious bird about to ponder whether its prey was worth of effort or not. "And you even had the galls to say that your boy was a Sky and of Vongola blood."_

 _She opened her mouth, only to be struck, causing her to fall directly on the shards, which bit into her hands, hundreds of tiny sharp, glittering teeth, causing her to muffle a scream._

 _"B-But he is!" She insisted, only for the attacker to chuckle, a cold, merciless sound._

 _"Signora, its poor manners to lie." The man scoffed as he poked her body with the tip of his immaculate black shoe, causing her to cringe in anticipation of kick. "We verified it… and there was nothing that could support your unrealistic claims."_

 _"No. No! My Xanxus is a Sky, I am sure of it! He already has three Guardians!" Her voice became more frantic, but the shadow of a man shook its head slowly, the black fedora on his head a threatening omen._

 _"You are lying_ again, _signora. Tsk, tsk. "_

 _She bolted. Scrambling up, she disregarded the pains in her palms and forearms, stumbling to kitchen and diving under the table, exhaling a breath of relief when she didn't hear him following her._

 _How could've all gone so very wrong?_

 _But then, there was an easygoing chuckle - which would, in different situation, be charmingly seductive, but right now, it froze her blood into shards of ice spearing her veins._

 _"I must commend you signora, you are very tenacious for someone who dared to lie to don Vongola in his face… but I am afraid that our liaison, as short as it was, has to end here." The devil purred out, causing her to sob with terror as she inched away from the approaching steps._

 _She regretted it. Oh,_ Dio, _did she_ ever _regret her foolish decision to contact Vongola._

 _Because the devil itself came to collect its due._

 ** _/End flashback/_**

* * *

A small boy was limping through the streets back home, mumbling under his breath, dark eyebrows furrowed in a cute scowl. He had messy black hair, and his eyes were, if one would've seen them, a curious mixture of reddish brown, not that anyone had any chance to look at the boy's face, much less eyes, for long.

He was clad in ratty off-white shorts and dark grey T-shirt which was a little too big for his frame, but enhanced his sun-tanned shin nicely nonetheless. He had to be in a scuffle or two… or five, considering the various bruises and bandages littering his body, some black, some brown and some more or less faded out and on the verge of disappearance. Despite many bruises, the boy wasn't the target of any concerned glances. Why would he, if he was a street rat, this was a par for the normal course here.

He ducked into an alley, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that he would be home soon and he could rest his poor, bruise-filled body soon.

The door he stopped in front of, was shabby and dirty, but he didn't mind. Opening it with a small grunt, he inhaled to call out that he was home, only to freeze.

Blood. Blood and rich cologne.

Dual-colored eyes widened even further when he saw the glass shards on the floor and there was blood smeared all over, like someone tried to stand up and - !

 _"Mamma!"_ He called out, bursting through the space and to his mother's bedroom, only to freeze when he saw a man lift his arm, cock the gun and any time now -

He jumped, higher faster, stronger, aiming to disarm the fucker who dared to enter his home, their home, but it was already too late, the elegant pointer finger squeezing the trigger and the next he knew was there was a bloody home in the middle of his mother's forehead and no, no, this didn't happen, not now –

With an animalistic roar, he swiped at the man, only to be backhanded down, the hit strong enough to cause him to see all the stars, but he shook his head and with a pure willpower grabbed the man's trouser leg, while he clenched the other hand into the fist, just like he was taught and aimed at the man's kneecap because the fucker deserved to be fucking _quartered_ for what had he done, causing the man to emit a pained grunt with the unexpected hit before the boy was kicked in the stomach.

The kick was strong enough to get him to sail through the air and make him smack against the wall. He yelped with pain as he glared at those black eyes, trying to struggle up again.

"You fu – " He got out, his eyesight blotting out, seeing the black of the man's suit with a shard of some other, brighter color. "Why?"

The murderer lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You are the one she was bragging about?" The boy stiffened at the query. His mum was bragging about him? To _who?_

The murderer sighed. "She lied to the wrong people, kid."

The boy bristled. "My _mamma_ ain't no liar!" He spat out, clenching his fists as he struggled to get up and attack his adversary anew. "And I'll _fucking kill you_ \- !" He ended in a screech when he lunged again, but this time, the murderer's eyebrow twitched with irritation and without hesitation, another bullet found its home in a living human body, causing the boy to drop on the dirty floor like a stone. Regretfully, the man shook his head, tilting the black fedora with yellow band at a better angle as he spoke the parting words to the soon to be dead kid.

He owed him at least that - the kid was tenacious as hell and it was a damn shame he had to be wiped as to not make trouble for his employer.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Some would ask - what was that one Harry James Potter had to attract such strange, and most importantly, strong Guardians? Despite the trio being disconcerting to even the feared Vindice, they were more or less_ normal.

Painfully _normal, that is._

 _And that was why nobody saw them coming._

 _Their Sky – the speculations were wild on that front – was said to be a sorceress – because nobody else who didn't have some magic, couldn't bewitch them to the degree of them agreeing to work for them._

 _Case in point, Viper of the Varia. But even the strongest Mist couldn't overcome them with his illusions, much to his ire._

 _But Harry was still a skinny teen, looking tiny even against Kiritsugu, who was the shortest out of the trio, and fragile with a touch of something feral at the edges of his personality._

 _And maybe it was that why his Guardians would tear the Heavens themselves asunder if they stood in their way to him._


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own any recognizable characters or songs. That ought to suffice.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ Wow, didn't know the last chapter would cause such a racket. I would apologize for a cliffhanger, but because those are kind of a writer's butter and bread (or a weapon, if you prefer), I can't. And yeah, that was Reborn. Mafia isn't kitties, rainbows and unicorns, after all. The timeline is also subject to shifting, also within a reason that would be explained later in the story. As a result, many, many people will be very mad, especially one very stressed-out tuna, when they find out the exact reason why. But suffice to say, Vongola did pick a wrong opponent this time.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on a multiple scales, snapshot back to merry hell in England or consequences thereof and it's bad-ass to be a muggleborn in those turbulent times.

* * *

 _When you were standing in the wake of devastation  
When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown  
And with the cataclysm raining down  
Insides crying, "Save me now!"  
You were there, impossibly alone_

 _Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?  
You build up hope, but failure's all you've known  
Remember all the sadness and frustration  
And let it go. Let it go.  
('Iridescent' by Linkin Park)_

* * *

She felt cold. The rain fell down on her body, changing her already wet clothes into a freezing cold, armor made of cloth clinging to her body.

She was standing in front of her parents' house, wearing the sodden garments and with a small bag of clothes on her shoulder. It had been raining heavily ever since she began her trek back, the atmosphere pressing down on her like heavy, invisible hand. Biting her lip, she reached out with her hand and pressed the doorbell, the mellow sound of it chiming a sad, final goodbye to her former life _._

* * *

 ** _/Excerpt from the diary of HJG:/_**

 _Ever since I was very young, I put my stock into rules. Because without rules, as I've read in some book, civilized society, as we know of it today, wouldn't have existed._

 _Rules said that with good grades comes a good position in job and good pay. So I've read a lot - not that it was any hardship to do, because I am naturally inquisitive person - and because I've read a lot, my grades were well beyond the norm, not that this helped my interaction with my schoolmates._

 _Looking back, I recognize I was a stuck-up bookworm. If the book said so, I rarely, if ever, changed my mind about person or situation or theory being either wrong or right. But I've learned - albeit the hard way, that the world, which I previously saw as black and white, good and bad, existed in numerous, lighter and darker, shades of gray._

 _When I was eleven years old, I was introduced to a wonderful new world, and naïve as I was, I hoped that this was it, this was where I would finally find my friends, get a good job and all that jazz, because finally I would be among ones who had similar gifts to mine._

 _Three months into schooling, I was both harshly disabused of the notion and got first real friends out of the deal. From then on, I've learned to break rules - not because they were important, but because they were unreasonable in the face of the situations we've been in, my friends and I. There were challenges, but we overcame them - well, H. did, mostly, with both I and R. as his support. And it was awesome._

 _But the fourth school year was when everything fell apart. H. was accused of intentionally getting into the tournament, causing all of the school, with some rare exceptions to turn against him. I've tried to play a bridge between him and R. but R. had been obstinate in his jealously. H. didn't help the matters either, but thankfully they managed to get through. Boys can be so very stupid it's unbelievable! That year was a disaster from the beginning to the end, especially because C.D. had been killed by V, and H. claiming that V. was back._

 _This was only a herald of things going downhill._

 _...I've been waiting with R. for Harry at GP, when we received the news that H. used the Life Debt he was being owed by all of the people gathered there. Most of the GP inhabitants, chiefly one Mrs. W. and Headmaster were disappointed with his choice, and R. became his old idiotic self again. Me? I was feeling sad, betrayed and alone. To tell the truth, H. was the only one who held me going through all three years since I've agreed to attend the madness that was H. I think he didn't know how much he had done for me, with accepting me as his friend. Even if he was distant, as if missing something, but those periods were few between, and vanishing as soon as R. or I approached him._

 _Going back to Hs. was a nightmare. R. was still riding his high of being 'betrayed' by his best mate, and I've caught him telling others more often than not just what kind of disservice his 'best mate' had done to him with just vanishing into thin air instead of facing his problems. Well, more fame for poor, abandoned R. then. For a time I was also besieged by my schoolmates whether I knew where H. went, not that I could tell them anything. Time went on, and then, U., that loathsome, pink-and-kittens-loving toad, happened. I tried to send out a letter to H., but was caught and was punished by writing 'I will not write to… any messages.' Thank heavens I've read about some of the healing ailments… but what disappointed me the most, that our Head of House, Ms. M, hadn't done anything, but advised us to keep our heads down and then… what? Never mind that the toad's lesson plan was utter bullshit._

 _And then I've done one thing I never, even in my worst nightmares, dared to dream I would do in this life._

 _I Quit. Yes, you read right. I quit. Thank the heavens for all those countless hours I've spent reading our school's history. It's kind of both amazing and worrying how ignorant the population could be to one of their chief literary works and more so the laws inscribed therein. But based on the response of the people of charge of the school - I can understand, at least a little - why H.'s patience had been snapped at that dumb trial._

 _I invoked some of those, thus allowing me to get out both scot-free and with all the tuition returned, plus a hefty percentage for all the times I had suffered an injury on the school grounds (And yes, that includes that toad's punishment, too. Won't she be happy - not! - When she finds out that her little stash of money was nicely depleted by her own foolishness. The Founders took the education and punishments seriously. I am just wondering why that clause didn't activate sooner, considering that it wasn't only I who had to suffer her idea of 'punishment'). Of course, the idiotic trinity - Headmaster, Ms. M, and the pink toad tried to protest, but those laws are as good as iron clad and considering I evoked them on the grounds they were written and established on, they didn't have a single leg to stand on. In exchange for that, giving up all that mumbo-jumbo I've been taught was a small price to pay._

 ** _/End of the excerpt/_**

* * *

The door opened prompting her to flinch at the sound. At the door, there stood a kind-faced woman, her hair cut into a neat bob which was softened by the waviness of the strands surrounding her face. Gentle gray eyes widened with surprise at who rang the doorbell.

"Hermione!" She was delighted as she embraced the newcomer, but soon after, a worried frown made it on her face.

"Mum." The girl, wet as she was, hugged her back hesitantly, her head snuggling onto the woman's chest, just like she used to do when she was little.

"I am home."

Something within her baby girl's words echoed with a sorrowful determination, causing her chest to ache and forcing her to forcibly swallow the ball that made its home in her throat as she threaded a shaky hand through her daughter's sodden hair.

"That you are, little love." She choked out, feeling tears try to escape the corners of her eyes. Whoever dared to hurt her baby so, they would pay, and pay _dearly._

(That's not even including what her husband would do to the fools when he finds out what they had done to his precious little princess.)

"That you are."

* * *

That night was the death of one Hermione Jane Granger, the brightest witch of her generation and witness to the birth of one Pepper Jean Potts, precocious teenage girl with almost preternatural sense for law, order and knowledge exactly when to uphold the borders between the two and when to break them down…

…which, ten years down the road, made her an exasperated, furious, sometimes mulish but always highly entertained companion and indisputable number one assistant of one Tony Stark, billionaire, philanthropist, genius and always and forever infuriating pain in her ass when it came to keeping up with schedules she had drawn up for him.

(She was so competent that she had gotten offers from numerous high-standing companies, including Lex Corp, Queen Corp and there were rumors of her being scouted by Bruce Wayne himself, but the last one could be neither proven or disproved, much to the dismay of the masses in know-how. Despite of being offered astronomical amounts of money and benefits, she always declined, and when asked for a reason, she claimed that working for any of them wouldn't give her any kind of challenge.)

Most of people working for Anthony Stark Junior claimed that working with that man was trying at best and horrifying nightmare at worst, considering the man was as much of an unapologetic genius just as he was a sharp-tongued asshole. With him being known as a media darling not many people were prepared to deal with the side of him that was obsessed with subjects so advanced that would make even Steven Hawkings' brain twist into a pretzel and then some. And despite Pepper Potts being a pretty face, she had an equally sharp mind to match under her skull. And _that_ was the reason why was she able to get the big baby genius in a man's body, named Tony Stark, follow her demands… most of the time. Because there was nothing sexier than woman with both looks _and_ a brain...who may or may not have been discovered by certain AI when she was looking through Tony's pet projects and commenting on them.

(But that will remain hers and JARVIS' little secret. Shhh.)


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer:** _ I told timelines to take a hike. (In my defense, I didn't give them any, they stole it.) I kidnapped characters. (Shh, don't tell them.) Okay, okay, I don't own them!

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Xanxus will be one very angry, angry child for the longest time coming. Just you wait. Kirei finally lost his saint- or was that devil?- like patience, and goblins have a heyday. Yeah. The future is officially going kaboom, not that anyone knows about it... yet. On the quadruple x-over - I answered that particular question at the beginning of the first chapter, but this can be a subject to change (aka Caren threatening Loki with Beast of Gaia or something.)

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on a multiple scales, Harry being a bleeding heart, literally, and of course, foreshadowing of what is about to come.

* * *

 _30 minutes, a blink of an eye  
30 minutes, to alter our lives  
30 minutes, to make up my mind  
30 minutes, to finally decide  
30 minutes, to whisper your name  
30 minutes, to shoulder the blame  
30 minutes, of bliss, thirty lies  
30 minutes, to finally decide_

 _To decide_

 _(30 minutes, by t.A.T.u.)_

* * *

Ever since that woman - Xanxus' mother - had visited him, Harry had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't told of her visit to anyone, assuming that either a) Kirei allowed her in, which was…not in Kirei's plans anytime soon, the paranoid bastard he was - all three of his friends were paranoid bastards, but Harry learned to live with that particular quirk of theirs - or b) she managed to sneak in when the eyes were off of her somehow.

The second possibility was more believable, considering the woman acted skittish as hell, like a long-tailed cat in the room with rocking chairs in movement everywhere. In fact, Harry was so surprised by her visit he didn't even think of calling his little cavalry of four.

Not that they talked much, what with the language barrier between the two of them. Harry only knew that she was Xanxus' mother because she had eyes, similar to his son, same shape, but very much dulled, without the spark Xanxus had. But what concerned Harry was that she apparently wasn't all… _there_ , so to speak. While they communicated, Harry with his broken Italian and her trying to simplify the sentences for his sake, but her accent really worsened the things, her eyes sometimes went off the focus, as if she was seeing something invisible to ordinary eyes.

If at first, she was shy and a little bit warm, the longer they talked, the more closed off she was becoming, which was also strange. Usually, it was the opposite - stranger meeting and warming to each other, but here she was, becoming more and more distant, and dare Harry think, colder to him.

Their goodbye was borderline stiff on her side, leaving Harry confused and worried about what she would say to Xanxus.

* * *

Days passed, but she hadn't come in again, nor was she mentioned in any way above usual when the green-eyed wizard talked to his friends and their tiny apprentice. Slowly, Harry relaxed. Maybe it as just a visit by a grateful mother and that was it. No more, no less. Yeah, that was it.

But the eighth day he was ripped from his afternoon - now early night - nap by two things. First one was his instincts blaring that there was something inherently _wrong,_ and before he could call anyone, his wristband buzzed, snatching his attention.

As soon as Harry's eyes landed on the small, seemingly decorative piece of the string, he paled a chalk white color.

The wristband, which was usually dark red in color, was now bone white, indicating that to whomever it was linked that this person was in grave danger.

 _Xanxus!_

Scrambling out of the bed and ignoring the protests and complaints of his body, he stumbled toward the doors and then through, startling Kiritsugu in dropping a chess piece - him and Soichiro had been playing chess, or at least it was Kiritsugu teaching Soichiro how to play chess.

"Harry! Shit, you scared me half to death! What are you doing – " Kiritsugu's banter was cut off short as he got a good look at Harry's face.

Then, there was Kirei. The priest was apparently on his way to deliver to Harry a new batch of tea, thus the big, steaming cup of the just brewed drink in his hands, before he hurriedly handled it to Soichiro and strode forward just in time to catch the hapless wizard.

"You ought to be in bed. What's wrong?" Short and to the point.

Wordlessly, Harry lifted his wrist, showing off the tiny bracelet and the three assassins immediately understood the severity of the gesture, both of them rising from the table, the game already forgotten.

"We have to go. _Right now!"_ Harry snapped as he struggled to get to the place where his shoes were stored.

No such luck. Kirei's hold on him was as strong as ever and for a moment, Harry cursed the priest's strength. It was simply unfair!

"You will stay in bed." Kirei decided, and any minute now, Harry would be lifted like an apple, carted off to the Land of Boredom and hells to _no,_ not this time.

"I will not do any such fucking thing!" Harry barked out, his nerves already frayed by both the knowledge that Xanxus was in danger and the sheer need to be at the scene. In a move that surprised everyone he turned around and grabbed Kirei's necklace, yanking the priest down so his irate eyes met with Kirei's taken-aback ones. "Don't know why, but I _have_ to be there! Either take me along or – " The other possibility needed not to be spoken of.

Kiritsugu's eyebrows rose with the entertaining scene, before he sobered again. "He is right, we don't have much time." The Magus Killer consented, his face grim. "Get him a pair of shoes - Soichiro, grab the First Aid kit - and let's go."

Harry sent to him a grateful, if tense smile, before he glared at Kirei again. "You heard him."

* * *

Ten minutes later they were in front of the rat hole that was Xanxus' home. Upon Harry's urging, the assassins didn't bother with niceties, choosing instead to just plain break through the door.

The inside wasn't any better than outside. Broken shards of glass from the window, blood and more blood causing the three assassins to stiffen and Harry to pale.

Were they already too late?

* * *

The blood led them to the something that was a bedroom, and the sight that awaited them here wasn't pretty.

Harry choked down bile when he saw the woman's face, with a small red hole in the middle of her forehead, the blood sluicing out of it across her face. Even if he had known how to deal with injuries, this was the first time he had directly saw a human corpse. No - not the first, second – but it was so much worse than it had been with Cedric. Jerking his head, he saw a small bundle against the edge of the bed and oh, God, _why_ –

He began to wiggle, grunting when Kirei still didn't let him down, but there were already Kiritsugu and Soichiro, unraveling the tiny bundle and if Harry thought the woman's death was hard to deal with, then when he found the heartless bastard who shot a small, defenseless boy, Harry swore that Hell would look like a highest form of paradise when he would be done with that son of a bitch.

Xanxus was pale, motionless and there was spilled blood - so much blood, surely too much for his tiny body to handle, a small, human-shaped rag doll carelessly thrown away just because he existed. Harry struggled harder, he had to be with Xanxus, only for Kirei to hold him back yet again and there was uncomfortable stinging in the corner of his eyes and his throat.

"Wait." The priest advised him. "Let them do their jobs."

* * *

Kiritsugu swore when he saw the amount of blood. Whoever did the shot, they were either very good or very lazy they shot just so that one of the main branches of the aorta was hit - enough to guarantee a death - a slow, painful, drawn out death, that is. The brat's skin was cool and slightly clammy to the touch but there was a - _yes,_ there was a small fluttering of heartbeat still - ! Almost against his will, Kiritsugu's lips curled into a feral smile.

"He's alive!" His voice choked out and gods, he was just so, so relieved that this brat was such a tough cookie. He didn't dare to look at Harry, already tearing Xanxus' clothes apart to further assess the damage and what could be done about it.

"His blood loss, though… He needs a transfusion." Soichiro, ever the rational one, quickly dampened their spirits.

"How soon can we reach the nearest hospital?" Harry's voice was a bit shaky, but all in all, the ex-wizard was holding on admirably.

"Not soon enough." Kirei sighed. Harry's head jerked up at him. _"What?!"_ He hissed, incensed. "We've came here stupidly fast, why are you saying you _can't_ – "

"Because he is already in the middle of class 3 hemorrhage." Kirei interrupted him sternly. "Meaning, if he doesn't get the transfusion right here and now, his life is forfeit in five minutes, if not sooner." Harry's intake of breath was to the three assassins as hurtful as if someone had physically stabled them into their guts.

If they thought Harry was pale before, they were wrong. Right then, he could've been mistaken for a ghost. But instead of giving up, those green eyes blazed with a newfound determination.

"Can you do it here?" Harry asked quickly, blindsiding Kirei with the question.

"This - Harry, we don't even know what his blood type is!" This was one of the rare occasions the priest was outright spluttering. Harry wiggled in his hold again, those green eyes glaring up at him. "Don't we have something - _anything_ \- to determine the blood type?" He looked from Kirei to Kiritsugu and then Soichiro. _"Anything_ at all?"

"We don't, and even if we did - !" Kirei was still protesting, when Harry was already rolling up his sleeve and thrusting his arm out.

"Then we use mine."

 _"You - !"_ Now, Kirei was usually level headed, but this was kind of reckless stupidity that was guaranteed to drive him to fury in a very short time frame. Even Kiritsugu and Soichiro were surprised speechless at Harry's decision.

Kirei shook Harry. Roughly. "Do you even _know_ what you are saying!?" He shouted - yes, shouted at Harry. He swallowed a small amount of guilt at Harry's minute flinch away from him but his friend needed to be aware of the consequences "If you have the wrong blood type, he will be _dead!"_

"He will be dead _anyway_ if we don't **_DO_** something to help him!" Harry shouted back, his eyes blazing.

"Listen to me, Kirei - I know what I am saying is stupid, but _please,_ just this once, believe me and do it!"

The words echoed in the small place, freezing them for a moment, with Harry still glaring into Kirei's eyes. A moment passed, and then, Kirei exhaled sharply, and in one movement, he deposited Harry on the ground, causing the green-eyed wizard to blink dumbly at his action.

"On your head be his death if you are mistaken." He snapped out. "Kuzuki, First Aid kit. I'll do the damn thing myself!" Nodding sharply, Soichiro hurried to open the kit, rifling through it to get out the necessary things.

Only Kiritsugu noticed Harry's bitter smile. "His death is on my conscience anyway." The wizard whispered to himself. None of the assassins asked him to clarify that statement.

It wasn't needed.

* * *

A whirlwind of action later, both Xanxus and Harry were connected by a thin, clear tube, temporary tourniquet already resting on Xanxus' wound. Kirei opened the small valve at Harry's end of the tube. Mutely, all of them watched the dark red liquid rush down, with Harry occasionally making his hand into a fist and then releasing it to pump more blood into it.

After a small eternity - or what it seemed to be like - Xanxus' skin gained a little bit healthier tint, previously bluish lips getting back to pink and there was - yes - a breath. And then another. And another. Small, stuttering, but there.

Wide dark eyes flickered to Harry. "Well, I'll be damned." Kiritsugu whispered, a small grin appearing on his lips, lighting up his entire face. "It seemed that your mumbo-jumbo worked."

"Mumbo-jumbo?" Harry gave him back a mock-offended glare. "I'll have you know that this was anything but." He sniffled, but his eyed were bright - from relief, with tears or something else. He turned back to Kirei. "Will he be stable enough for a hospital?" He asked hopefully, barely refraining from shifting from his position as not to dislodge the needle in his arm.

Kirei disregarded him, causing Harry's shoulders to drop with dismay.

Instead, the priest removed the tourniquet, and Kiritsugu opened his mouth to protest, but Kirei already placed his hand on the small chest. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, causing a familiar blueish - yellow glow emit from his palms.

When he finally lifted his palms off the boy's chest, the terrible wound wasn't there anymore - instead, there was a small silvery white scar, and if one would care to look, a similar one was on the boy's back. Instead, there was a mass of drying blood, and one peacefully snoozing little brat who was the sole culprit for the mess of the last half of hour.

Bemused, Kiritsugu shook his head. "Hey. Do you think that this warrants another dose of spanking?" He addressed all of them, smirking as he imagined just what kind of face the kitty brat would do when they will tell him the news.

Silently, Kirei detached the both needles from him and Harry before healing the puncture wounds, not looking at the now very unnerved and extremely worried wizard.

"Kirei? Hey, why are you ignoring me?" Harry was a little bit pale - both from a blood loss and from thinking why Kirei clammed down so abruptly.

"I completely agree." The young priest finally spoke, causing Harry's face to brighten. But the look on Kirei's face, when he glared down at the bundle of trouble that was his best friend, was not boding anything well for the tiny wizard. Involuntarily, Harry shrank, trying to make himself as small target as possible. Because… pissed off Kirei was not a person to stand on the proverbial loggerheads with.

"But this time, the one most deserving of it is one Harry James Potter." The priest delivered his sentence.

Abruptly straightening with shock, Harry choked. "You _wouldn't!"_ He squeaked out, his green eyes huge. "I am a patient, remember? No injuring the patients!" Doing a last check on Harry's new bandages, Kirei bent down and hauled him back into the princess carry.

"In your case, being _patient_ is more of a misnomer of an adjective and a very flawed objective. If you are healthy enough to get yourself into trouble, then you are more than prepared to receive just punishment for when you fail to take care of your well-being. Hopefully, next time the memory of it will deter you from making similarly foolish decisions. In layman's terms: Shut up and let me spank you!" The priest snapped back, his forked eyebrows furrowing with discontent

Blinking, Soichiro paused in his stashing away of the med kit, and Kiritsugu - well, Kiritsugu outright howled with laughter.

Soichiro nodded. Kirei was right, after all. Harry's stunt shaved at least five years off of his life. "Can I join?" His monotone voice inquired, and Soichiro forced himself to keep on a blank face.

Harry whipped his head around, green eyes shocked. He would've thought that of Kiritsugu, but of Soichiro? Never in a million years! "Traitor!" He accused the grey-eyed assassin.

Kirei's eyebrows quirked. Kiritsugu guffawed. "Room for one more?" The Magus Killer offered, grinning a toothy grin, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Why, thank you, good sirs. Your help would be much appreciated." Kirei replied back, smirking. Groaning, Harry covered his face with both hands, acutely aware of the traitorous heat in his cheeks. If there was a time to die of mortification, then this was the chance. Shame that there was no snake-faced nemesis to take the advantage of the chance, though. And knowing these three… Slumping, Harry resigned himself for a very hands-on lesson in the near future.

The three of them headed out, Kuzuki ahead, Kirei in the middle and still shaking with laughter Kiritsugu at the tail of the cavalcade.

Grumbling, cheeks still fire-engine red, Harry crossed arms on his chest. "You are bad friends and I don't like you anymore." He proclaimed out, pouting like a little child.

Kiritsugu lost it again. It was honestly a miracle he managed to carry Xanxus back to their base intact, with how much he laughed and giggled to himself all the way back.

(He would have stomach cramps from laughter for a day or two, but to Kiritsugu, it was worth it. Oh so worth it.)

* * *

Meanwhile, all was well in the Gringotts. The employees were going about their own business. Just because those dumb wizard were going up and about with their silly little disputes, it didn't mean Goblins had time to lollygag around. Since the Potter Heir - well, Potter Lord - announced his intention to leave the wizarding world, they were now even busier. Things to do, jewels to check, vault contents to tally, deal with dumb wizards –

\- Same old, same old day in and day out.

The old goblin whose turn was now to oversee the changes in family register yawned. It was a dead boring job, with the emphasis on Dead and Boring. In fact, the task was so easy that a youngling could've been doing it, just because wizards liked to inbred so very much. It was sick, really. And to some degree fascinating. The Gringotts Underground had a rallying tally about that sort of things, where they bet about when one or another family line would become extinct, who would be a Squib, which one would be thrown out of the family and of course, any prospective new blood on the horizon. Surprisingly enough, Goblins liked to deal with Muggleborns much more than the native wizards and witches – business first was the core motto of the Gringotts bank, and new blood always brought along amusing if not unusual ways about how to create money. Profit was profit, after all, no need to be stuck in the stone ages like the rest of the masses, aka so-called purebloods and halfbloods.

Lazily, the goblin blinked at the screen and swiped. Malfoys once again dipped into their vaults, and what was that, petition to acclaim the Black vaults? My, my, how daring, especially when the current Head of Black family was apparently still alive and thriving and more than enough pissed off to teach them not to poach on a foreign territory. Notts were… Notts. The goblin shook his head. No deal on that one. Their only son may as well be a troll and there was little chance for the family to survive, even if they did a one-eighty and marry the heir to a prospective Muggleborn, like that Granger girl. Weasleys…. He made an odd grimace at that one. It was fascinating and kind of terrfying how they managed to breed - kind of like rabbits, seven children, all of them moderately powerful. It was no wonder the other pureblood families felt threatened by them.

On a whim, he wiped the screen clear, willing another family name to appear.

 ** _Potter._**

The sole heir, magically strong enough to be said he halted the Dark Lord's attack when he was a mere babe and then turn it against him. Savior and scorned in equal measure, and the only wizard respected by goblins both for his deed of going against a thousand years old Basilisk only with a sword and for being ballsy enough to tell those magic-wielding dullards where to stick their perfect world and rules.

A spindly finger lazily followed the twists and turns of that particular name.

Ahh. Yes. _Harry… James… **Potter.**_ That one. Such a shame he had to resort to such drastic measures, though. Shaking his head, the goblin moved to close the window, only for the screen to change.

First name was written beside the wizards, only the characters were slanted in a different language and it took the goblin a few moments to decipher him. Magic could do many things, but magically translating one language into another was still a pipe dream. This was also one of the reasons just why younglings were not allowed to work on this job. Bungle up one name and the consequences were not pretty. (Cue wizard/goblin war number two. Over a stupid name of a stupid wizard who was illiterate to begin with.)

Blinking with a slight surprise at the name, the goblin nodded. That young one was a good one, too. He didn't talk much, but seeing him go against the whole Wizengamot - a _priest_ of all things, and he managed to discombobulate the ruling body of those foolish wizards with just the words so completely they didn't even care to ask him whether or not was he qualified to be Potter's judicial proxy.

The goblin grinned a fierce grin. Stupid, stupid wizards. And good for Potter for having found that one. Ruthless as a goblin that one was… and there was no greater compliment from a goblin to one of the different race than this.

The grin on the old goblin's face froze when another name scrawled itself on the screen... but dropped down between the previous two names.

Elegant but jagged scrawl, a mixture of the two but when the goblin comprehended what it meant, he barked out a cackle, attracting the attention of his three colleagues who approached the old one. Their supervisor jabbed at the spot he was looking at and after a couple of moments…

Black eyes zeroed onto the last name, a terrifying grin, full of shark teeth gracing its birth and blessing it existence for all the trouble and headache it would bring to the stupid wand-waving monkeys….

The cackle grew in volume until it reached demonic proportions.

Because there was a new Heir in the game, and judging by company Potter kept, the little brat would grow up to be a terrifying force to be reckoned with, indeed.

Now to send the newly-minted parents congratulations on obtaining their sprog…

It was a good day to be a Goblin, indeed.

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _The rule of Seven_

 _Is broken by Three_

 _The numbers are even_

 _The Shattered free_

 _The seven of strongest_

 _Follow behind_

 _The curse held longest_

 _Dispelled at a whim_

 _But Sky of the Shattered_

 _Will never be theirs_

 _Because when it mattered_

 _They were in their lairs_

 _But Shattered ones_

 _They broke their chains_

 _They buried the bones_

 _Of betrayals remains_

 _Foes' lives are forfeit_

 _Plans of enemy_

 _Broken, overturned,_

 _Those who oppose still_

 _To death will be burned_

 _The Seven are no more_

 _There are Four and Three_

 _All of them still are broken_

 _But forever free._


	20. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer:** _ I don't own characters or song. But I do recommend the song, and if you are interested, you can find it on Youtube.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ I am posting that later than usual, sorry for delay. Had storm and internet connection on my side was wiped out. Also got a freaking scare one minute after finishing the chapter with a sudden electric blackout. Talk about mini heart attack. Next chapter will pick up some pace, and I will jump at least some weeks, if not months ahead to get the story running.

 ** _Warnings:_** _ **AU** _ on a multiple scales, story getting ahead, dividing the parental roles and Xanxus feels.

 _ **Dictionary:**_ This section will be more of an exception than rule.

 _cazzo -_ prick

 _sei stupido turista_ \- you stupid tourist

 _stupido_ \- stupid, dumb

 _idiota_ \- idiot

 _scusi_ \- (I'm) sorry

* * *

 _You're shattered  
Like you've never been before  
The life you knew  
In a thousand pieces on the floor  
Yesterday's a closing door  
You don't live there anymore  
Say goodbye to where you've been  
And tell your heart to beat again_

 _('Tell your heart to beat again',_ by Danny Gokey _)_

* * *

Three days. Three days since he had lost the only blood family he had ever known.

His _mamma_ may not have been the best one in the world, and Xanxus may have resented her for pushing him into the world of crime just because he had those thrice-damned Flames, condemned here - if only slightly – that she wasn't educated, that she couldn't have given him the normal kind of life, begrudged her for taking him away from his home and insisted on both of them living in that little hell hole in a wall –

\- but no matter how much he tried to stockpile his anger, hurt and resentment, there was a big, yawning hollow in his chest.

No more of listening to her stories, or seeing her walk down those streets, her eyes dark and stubborn, just like his own were. He curled in his bed - Harry's, really, - but there wasn't that familiar scent of her - Xanxus didn't know how to describe it, and even if he wrinkled nose about it, that scent also mysteriously acted him, telling him of unconditional care, safety and those days of sunshine, rare as they were, before reality crashed down on him.

His jaw clenched when he remembered that _cazzo_ who dared to kill her. Smooth talking fucker, bedecked in suit that cost more than Xanxus' life was probably worth – _several_ of Xanxus' lives, actually – and he relived that moment when he saw the trigger being pulled in excruciating details every damn night.

When he would see him again, Xanxus swore that deepest levels of Hell itself would feel like _pale_ in comparison with the tortures he would heap on the murderer. He didn't have any doubts of that. He swore on his mother's grave –

Xanxus curled into himself once again.

Harry had offered to buy the plot of land for her grave, his eyes dark and shuttered, dark eye bags still too pronounced on his face. There was a pair or three of new worry lines forehead too. The six-year boy felt a little bit guilty that he was being such a burden on the _turista_. Harry had already done more for him than any other person aside his mother and here Xanxus was, a nuisance from the beginning to the end, dragging the kind green-eyed teen down with him.

He bit his lip once more, feeling the barely healed wound tear open again, and the tiny stream of blood gush on his tongue. He looked at his hands, so tiny and already calloused. He felt useless. Without money, without any kind of personal identification, street brat, and after _turista_ and his tree devil tails would leave the city, Xanxus would be dragged back onto streets and deeper into crime yet again. Xanxus never supposed that their agreement what with schooling him was anything else than temporary. Sooner than later _turista_ would go, leaving Xanxus behind, never mind his pretty words.

The hollow in Xanxus' chest grew, when the boy's eyes dulled to the point of being lifeless.

* * *

Harry glared at Kirei. The priest, along with his other two traitors of friends had kept up his word, and Harry's posterior paid for his stupidity in spades. Wincing, he shifted on the chair. Every movement he made sent another bolt of agony from his … bum to his brain. The pain was harsh, like really low-powered, locally minimized _Cruccio._ But what galled him the most was the indignity of punishment in question. Honestly, Harry would've preferred anything else, even _Cruccio_ instead of that - that demeaning action! He was not a kid dammit!

..Okay, his plan had been foolhardy to the extreme. Yes, he could've killed the kid with the transfusion. Even he, with his limited education in Biology, knew that. If Xanxus had had the wrong blood type, the antigens in Harry's blood would've triggered wrong immune reaction, and in essence cause the clogging of blood vessels, including major arteries. And if the blood clogged up, the system as a whole would be stopped, just like pouring a sack of rice flour into motor engine would stop the system… damaging it so irrevocably that the only outcome would be death.

Harry had known all of that. He didn't know what Xanxus' blood type was, he didn't know what his own was – he hadn't been carted to the doctor nearly as often as the _precious_ Duddykins, but he had gambled on the fact of having Phoenix tears in blood, and hoping against hope the mystical substance would somehow circumvent the usual complications if his blood type really proved to be completely incompatible with Xanxus'.

His hail mary of a plan had succeeded. With Kirei healing the kid, the success was doubled to the point of Xanxus being almost completely healed and needing only a good rest along with plenty of food to help his body overcome the shock of being wounded via bullet. Not that Xanxus being alive counted any when Harry tried to lessen his punishment, even explaining to Kirei just why he had thought that his dumb plan was a _good_ idea in the first place.

He tried not to blush when he worked hard at repressing the humiliating memories. Because surely it was awkward as hell to have his best friend have him lean across his lap and then, for the lack of better word, spank him like his life depended on it? Make that exponentially awkward, as both Kiritsugu and Soichiro joined him in the administration of punishment.

Judging by the heat in his cheeks, he was unsuccessful. As much as the sensation was unpleasant - Kirei didn't hold back much, along with Kiritsugu and Soichiro, and Harry would be ashamed to say that he cried a tear or two - okay, he bawled, alright? – after the punishment ended. The interactions after that particular episode were strange too, at least from Kiritsugu's side, the assassin looking at him in some kind of a new light, which made something in Harry's gut twist with some kind of funny feeling he didn't dare to examine too closely for fear of discovering just what exactly would they mean for him, and the relationship between the two of them.

No matter how deserved the punishment had been, Harry still swore to get his friends back for their little drumming episode starring their hands and Harry's derriere. Kirei had been indifferent to his silent threats, the bastard, and for once, Harry understood Kiritsugu's frustration with young priest. Kirei as an opponent was both utterly exasperating and terrifying force of nature. It didn't help that Soichiro, aside from single apologetic glance, had been firmly on Kirei's side of things on the matter, even going so far as to agree to repeat the punishment when - not _if,_ but _when_ \- Harry bungled up again.

(Much to Harry's dismay, such occasions would inevitably come through. Because his luck was just _that_ damn bad.)

He slurped another mouthful of a tea, extra loudly just to be obnoxious. Aunt Petunia would probably fainted at his bad manners, honestly, Englishmen don't slurp while drinking tea. But Harry enjoyed their little twitches of discomfort. And Xanxus –

Harry frowned. Xanxus was worryingly quiet on the issue, ever since they had brought him back to their base. A small pinch of guilt nipped at his conscience. He shouldn't have dragged Xanxus in –

"Don't." Blinking, Harry focused on Kirei. The priest's eyebrows were scrunched a bit, and usually bleak eyes were now glaring at him. "Don't what?" Harry asked, curious. "Whatever you are blaming yourself for now, don't." Kirei glowered down on him. "You are not responsible for her death."

* * *

Kirei saw Harry involuntarily jerk with surprise, the liquid in his cup sloshing a little, and those green eyes widened with honest surprise before the wizard tried to regain his equilibrium. "What are you talking about?" Harry snapped out, his fingers clenching around the cup tightly and lips turning down with annoyance. "I am not worrying about anything!"

A disbelieving raise of eyebrows followed his declaration." You will also agree to deny that you are guilty by association?" Kirei's voice was drier than a desert of Gobi. Harry opened his mouth to agree, before his train of thought caught up with him, prompting him to snap his mouth shut and his glare at Kirei was upped another notch.

"And why exactly do you think that?" He bit out the cup making a clattering sound when he placed it on the desk a little too hard. An undignified snort prompted him to swerve his head to the Magus Killer.

"Because your face literally screams guilty-as-fuck." Kiritsugu didn't mince words. "You could've fooled anyone else, but it's not hard to guess, considering you are a freaking bleeding heart. We don't even know if that was in any was connected to us. And maybe this will be news to you, but Harry, two words: _Shit. Happens_." Kiritsugu jerked his head toward him as he carelessly lifted his own cup of coffee to his lips.

Making a good gulp of the hot liquid, Kiritsugu then licked his lips, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. "Shit happens." He repeated his voice languid. "Shit happens to me. Shit happens to you. Shit happens to everyone, and yeah, sometimes we are the guilty ones for making it happen. You are not a god, you can't protect everyone." He shrugged, his lips twisting in bitter self-deprecation. "The most you can do is to minimize casualties, if even that."

"But I've dragged Xanxus into this!" Harry protested, his eyes wild. "If it weren't for me, Xanxus wouldn't have been used as a hostage to get me cooperates with Freccia. If it weren't for me being a hostage, you wouldn't have needed to save me – "

"If it weren't for you, we would've been broken." The gray-eyed assassin stopped Harry's tirade, his voice calm, causing Harry's jaw to snap shut and the wizard to glare at him. "I concur with Kiritsugu's words. Even if some of the things were your fault, they became so without your input. You couldn't have known what would happen. In conclusion, you had very little control over the outcome in any given time and situation up until now. Xanxus could've just as easily avoided you. It was his choice to meet you time and again. We could've killed you when we met you again. Or just plain ignore you. It was our choice, and we didn't choose either of the two possibilities. We could've left you with Freccia - again, we didn't, because you are our friend, and if you were in our position, I believe you would've done exactly the same.

Harry scowled. "This is just that Flame thingy speaking." He shook his head, only to yelp with surprise when someone's hand whacked the back of his head, causing him to yelp with shock.

" _Sei stupido_ _turista_!" the Italian language was just as much of a shock as a welcome surprise. The three assassins were not surprised, but Harry definitely was.

"Xanxus!" Harry exclaimed, turning his head to the fuming boy. "What are you doing out of the bed? You should've been resting!"

And lo and behold, there he was, in all of his scowling glory with mostly red eyes glaring down at him. Not really down - Xanxus was still a little bit too small for that feat, but the boy's presence was such that it made him seem a good teen inches taller than he actually was.

"You didn't drag me into _anything,_ _idiota!"_ The boy spat out, his eyes blazing. He was clad in Harry's boxers and Kirei's black T- shirt, making it seem like he was wearing an oversized black gown. His feet were bare, thus explain just why hadn't Harry heard his approach. "Do you really think me so stupid as to not know what I want to do?" He demanded of the wizard, prompting Harry to wince.

"Well, no, but – " Harry tried to defend himself, only for his hair to be grabbed into a rough hold and yanked, causing him to yelp with sharp pain. _"Ow!_ Xanxus – "

"Don't you _'Xanxus'_ me, _stupido!"_ The six-year old barked back, his eyes blazing. "Shit happened! And just for your information - it was _mamma's_ own damn fault! She **_lied_** – " Xanxus sneered the last word, "to the wrong people, or so that _bastardo_ had said to me. That she said I was Vongola Decimo and – "

Xanxus face, as brave as he was, quivered the longer he spoke, the wounds still alive and bleeding. Blinking furiously to get the tears out of his eyes, he glared at Harry again. "And they offed her." He shrugged. "Just like that." His voice became tight, hitching a little, and he was swept into a hug, inhaling Harry's scent of grass and ripened apples with something undefinable. Even if he didn't want to, his tiny hands clenched into fists as he grabbed the fabric, hiding his face into Harry's neck, trying hard, so very hard not to cry.

Harry's went out to the little boy. Xanxus had already been self-raising himself, but being a complete orphan and knowing not only who had done the deed but being helpless to stop it, had to suck. "I'm sorry, Xanxus." He muttered to the boy, closing his own eyes to stop the stinging within them that way.

"You don't have to be sorry." The boy mumbled, burrowing even deeper into the offered hug. "You didn't do anything to kill her."

But Harry knew this brave little boy was wrong. So, so very _wrong._

Instead, he swallowed the big, heavy ball lodged in his throat and nodded, forcing a small smile. "Of course. You're right and I was wrong, little one. _Scusi."_

Xanxus bristled immediately.

"I am _not_ little!" His indignant growl caused everyone to laugh.

* * *

Kirei's healing techniques and Soichiro's gross medicines did the wonders. It had taken a week, but Xanxus was up and running - well, not running, he feared Kirei's wrath too much for that, but he was his loud, annoying and aggravating self, much to Kiritsugu's annoyance and Harry's relief. The first few days, Harry worried about him, because he was in a deep funk, but Kirei just said Xanxus was borrowing Harry's way of coping - aka sulking - and that Xanxus would be back to his own self in no time, much to Kiritsugu's horror, Harry's reluctant relief and Soichiro's quiet amusement.

But even if Xanxus was his old self again, there was a hard glint in his eyes, which was softened only when he interacted with Harry. He also demanded to be taught everything he could be, and while Kiritsugu found a very devoted student, he couldn't help but worry a little about Xanxus' newfound drive. To counteract that, Hedwig, bless her should, appointed herself as Xanxus' temporary guardian, and more often than not, whacked him with a wing if Xanxus brooded too much to be healthy. Their tare downs became a staple between two of them, with Hedwig leading and Xanxus reluctantly sharing his pile of bacon with her.

However, the peaceful days were not meant to last, and there was still question what to do about Xanxus when they would go to Vatican.

Lunch was, once again, a lively affair - Xanxus and Kiritsugu egged each other on, with Hedwig systematically decimating Xanxus' share of meat, not that the boy noticed it any, so deep he was in his little upmanship with Kiritsugu. Exasperated, Harry shook his head as he accepted his plate of food from Kirei. This day's meal was roasted fish with boiled potatoes and gravy with a big bowl of salad.

Muttering a small thanks for the food, along with Soichiro, he grabbed the utensils to eating, when he heard a peck on the window and an impatient hoot.

Harry stilled. He exchanged glances with the two assassins - Kiritsugu was still smugly smirking at Xanxus, with the latter glowering at him for - in Xanxus' opinion- unfair win – and moved to stand up to open the window.

No one knew where they were, with a single exception.

And to receive the missive from them _now_ out of all times, was either very good news or very worrying ones.

"I will take this one." Soichiro stopped him as he rose from the table. As soon as he opened the adjacent window, a very ruffled black owl swept in, landing directly in front of Harry and offering him its leg, while somehow managing a disapproving glare.

Harry blinked. If he hadn't known better, he would've thought the owl in question was an animal representation of Snape, with what how dark and disdainful its glare was. All it missed was an oversized beak and some robes. Biting back a giggle, he reached for the letter, only to yelp when his hand was pecked so hard it bled. His yelp finally managed Kiritsugu and Xanxus' attention out of their little competition, both of them horrified at the state of Harry's hand. The owl turned its head away from Harry, it's eyes landing on Hedwig. It's eyes widening with surprise the bloody thing then decided to fluff it's feathers and bloody _preen_ in the middle of the table, puffing itself with self-importance, the Gringotts medallion glinting on its breast.

That was all it took for Hedwig to emit an offended screech and launch herself at the owl-shaped vampire like white-feathered lightning, claws ready, willing and able to skewer the fluff-brain who dared to wound _her_ Harry.

The next five minutes were an utter chaos. Feathers flying everywhere, dishes were upended, and present humans had to dive away from the owl-fu that was happening on the table.

At first, it was amazing, and a little bit amusing. But the longer it lasted, the more Harry's patience was running out.

Finally, his eyebrow twitching, Harry had it.

 ** _"ENOUGH!"_** His sharp bark literally froze the two feathered miscreants in the middle of their moves, Hedwig's right legs stretched and claws ready to gut the black menace, while the black one had its wings in a half-comical position of warding the said claws off, an owl version of Marilyn Monroe in the middle of pushing her blown up skirt down, both of their heads and comically wide eyes zeroed on the green-eyed, and very not amused, wizard.

"Holy shit. That was _vicious."_ Kiritsugu muttered, amazed, with awed Xanxus nodding along, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene of carnage.

"Now, do you have something to deliver?" Harry glared down on the black-feathered menace. The owl hunkered for a moment, like it was wincing under his gaze, before unfurling itself from its undignified position, only to squawk when a white blur whacked the back of its head and upended it into the shallow bowl full of gravy.

 _"Hedwig!"_ Harry exclaimed, shocked. Just what had gotten into her now? Usually, she was fairly tolerant, because Pigwidgeon - Pig for short - was a buzzard that got on everyone's nerves (he was kind of an acquired taste, really,) but not even a minute since the black owl came in, and it seemed that all of the white owl's seemingly saint-like patience evaporated in a jiffy.

Quickly folding the offensive wing she had used to upend her black-feathered enemy into the icky green substance, his owl gave Harry the biggest, most innocent eyes ever. _'Who, me?'_ they seemed to say.

Pinching bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a moment, Harry gathered his wits. It was too damn early for this shit. Never mind that it was already lunchtime. And then, he delivered his verdict.

"No bacon for you." He stoically suffered through Hedwig's offended squawk, glaring her down. "For a week!" He snapped when he saw her eye the wet black ball of feathers too speculatively for its own good. Ignoring now the stone-still white owl, he directed his glare at the black one. "And _you!_ I _really_ hope that you had an excuse for your little snip; otherwise I will ask Hedwig to play with you. _Just. A. Little. Bit."_ The previously snobby black own cringed and seemingly became smaller with every word Harry had spoken to it. Of course, Harry's kind, if a little bit psychotic smile didn't help the matters.

Meekly, it straightened itself out and offered the small tube to Harry, who arched his eyebrows at the mess. After a minute, Harry finally deigned to relieve it from its burden, and a small prick later, it expanded to a normal size, which immediately rolled itself out.

"Is that normal?" Soichiro asked faintly, his gray eyes wide at the mess made in a ridiculously short amount of time.

" _'Normal'_ as in tubes getting bigger or _'normal'_ as in owl assassination we've had the honor to witness just now?" Kirei was too amused for his own good. Harry gave him a good glare, before zeroing back to the official looking documents in his hands.

A minute passed. Harry didn't move. Two minutes.

"Harry?" Kirei asked, concerned. It was not funny anymore. Frowning, he gently pried the papers out of the shell-shocked wizard's hold and peered at them himself. Whatever he read, it apparently hurled him into the same mental state as Harry.

A minute later, Kiritsugu became concerned. Usually, Kirei responded to any threat promptly, but whatever it was in this missive, apparently caused the reader to have a prompt shutdown of the mind.

"Kirei, what's the matter?" He poked at the priest who finally blinked.

Tilting his head, his eyes slid to Xanxus, who got a feeling that whatever the priest had read, didn't bode well with him.

A small quirk of Kirei's lips, and Xanxus' blood froze. Oh _balls_ , that little smile didn't bode anything good. For anyone involved.

"It appears that I and Harry have a very angry son." Kiritsugu blinked at Kirei's revelation. Soichiro's eyes widened, apparently the assassin already connected the dots.

A very angry _son?_ "But you are a priest and last time I've checked Harry was a male." Kiritsugu mumbled, confused.

But wait a moment. Kiritsugu's mind flashed back to Kirei's not so subtle eyeing of the official papers and then Xanxus.

 _Oh._ Oh, _Hell no._

"Angry son?" Xanxus voice was a study in surprise and hurt. "Why the fuck didn't I know anything about it?"

"Hey, Kitty brat." Kiritsugu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Out of all the consequences he had imagined to show from that mess that was saving Xanxus' life, this was the absolutely last one he would thought of.

Xanxus glowered at him. Kiritsugu didn't mind. In fact, he offered the brat a small evil smile.

"Congrats. You've officially became Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine."

Xanxus blinked. And then when he finally understood the ramifications, his reddish-brown eyes bulged out, his jaw slackening with surprise. Hastily snapping his mouth shut, he whipped his head around, his eyes darting from Harry to Kirei and back to Harry.

Slowly, mechanically he straightened out the downed chair and then sat down. Aiming his gaze on Kirei, he opened his mouth. And closed it. And then…

"I'm not calling you mommy." He deadpanned at the priest.

Kirei blinked and tilted his head. "You just did, so your argument is invalid."

Kiritsugu roared with laughter, Soichiro's quiet chuckles joining in the merry chorus, along with Harry's long-suffering groan.

* * *

Kirei got a son. The idea was funny for all of a half an hour.

Because.

 _Kirei._

 _Got._

 _A._

 _Son_.

But then, the subject wasn't so funny anymore. Not only because Harry had a small bout of panic, but also because Kirei was not even closer to Harry by virtue of having a 'son' with him, and where did that leave Kiritsugu?

Never mind that Harry was all that was good and kind and innocent (Kiritsugu elected to carefully leave out ' _bloody scary'_ out of description,), and it surely was a special brand of hell Kiritsugu found himself in, because it should've been him who would've been father to that damn kitty brat, never mind that Xanxus and him got along about as well as oil and water. So to say, barely tolerating each other.

So. Harry got a son, with that son-of-a-gun Kirei. Kiritsugu scowled. His little revelation prompted an outright brawl with Kirei, who had been smirking at him and pissing him off in the process even more. The results of the brawl weren't pretty.

And Harry was pissed at both of them - both for the property damage - if it weren't for bounded fields, the damage would've spilled even further and yeah, no. Not going there.

(They were bad, bad examples to a certain kitty brat, not that the said kitty brat minded in the slightest.)

Now, he was standing in front of Harry's temporary bedroom, debating with himself whether it was safe to go in yet or not.

Looking at a small bouquet of flowers in his hand he swallowed his dread down and knocked.

* * *

One day. One day of peace, was that too much to ask for?

Closing his eyes, Harry prayed for patience. Was it just him, or was the world going mad with him being left behind as a sane one?

And the day had begun so well. He had finally been cleared of his bed restriction, Xanxus was better, and he looked forward to lunch. A simple fare, a piece of his homeland and maybe a piece of a tiramisu after that. A poor swap for treacle tart, really, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

The lunch was when everything went downhill. First Dracula – the owl was apparently here to stay, because he was a gift from Goblins, much to Hedwig's ire – then the unexpected owl-fu because that bloodthirsty pecker couldn't keep his beak away from Harry's hand, and then subsequent loss of the lunch owl-style. Of course, if that wasn't enough, he had found out that he was a father.

Or, in Xanxus' case, a _mommy._

Pinching the bridge of his nose he then tiredly run the fingers to press on the eyelids, gently massaging his eyeballs underneath in an effort to alleviate the grandmother of all headaches.

 _Him._ A _mother._

Just because he had done that fucking blood transfusion. How should've have _known_ that willingly giving his blood to Xanxus and then Kirei healing the brat apparently consisted for a _blood adoption_ of all things?

Of course, Kiritsugu was all too amenable to the idea, and Xanxus was right behind him. So it was two against one in that case, and neither Kiritsugu nor Soichiro were of any help in that matter.

Of course, that was without accounting in for Kiritsugu's little blowout and subsequent fight. He didn't know just what had gotten in the Magus Killer, but one moment he was laughing at Kirei's lack of fortune like hyena, and then, next one was guns a-blazin' and bellowing something about Kirei defiling Harry's innocence or some similarly absurd shit like an overprotective gun-toting father who had just found out that a scoundrel managed to steal his darling princess' innocence.

There was a hesitant knock in his door.

Harry grimaced.

"Enter." He called out, praying to all that was holy that whoever it was would not exacerbate the headache.

"Harry?" Kiritsugu's soft voice inquired hesitantly.

The green-eyed wizard sighed. He so wanted to be angry at his friend, but right now, all he could muster up was a weary exasperation. " Yeah?" He grunted out, still massaging his eyes.

"How are you feeling? I can come later if you want to rest – "

Harry lifted his hand, cutting Kiritsugu's ramblings.

"It's fine." He sighed. "Just have a headache. So what do you want?"

It was a little rude, he supposed, but right now, he wasn't in the mood to deal with any more of the bullshit he already had. And there was a scent…

He sniffled. His eyebrows arched.

Flowers.

"Kiritsugu?" He asked. He heard his friend swallow and he suppressed his amusement. Was he really that scary?

"Y-yeah?" Oh, and Kiritsugu _stuttered_. Harry stifled a laugh. Poor man. Patting the side of his bed, he mutely invited his friend to sit down. A small moment of hesitation later, the bed dipped, and there was a familiar scent that denoted Kiritsugu – gun oil, cigarettes and generic soap with something uniquely Kirei.

"Relax, I won't bite you." He gently teased. "So what was so important to warrant flowers of all things?"

He heard a small _'urk'_ being emitted, and he had to suppress a snicker. A small peek out of the corner of his eye revealed Kiritsugu blushing like mad, and his eyes wide and almost innocent, like they used to be when they had been young and unaware of the world's cruelties.

A sigh. "A peace offering, I suppose." Kiritsugu replied, defeated.

Harry smiled, his heart warming up at the thoughtful gesture. The bouquet was a simple thing, lavender combined with baby breath and rosemary. It was almost understated, yet elegant in its simplicity, the scent of it simple yet soothing, somehow dulling the pain in his head.

He made a humming noise. "Thank you." Looking up at Kiritsugu, Harry gently scoped up the bouquet and brought it to his nose to inhale the scents better. Involuntarily, his lips curled into a loose, semi-relaxed smile, prompting Kiritsugu to smile back at him, dark eyes relieved, even if he was still faintly blushing.

"But that still doesn't answer me what triggered you to get into an all-out brawl with Kirei." Harry eyed the assassin sternly, and Kiritsugu groaned.

"I'm _sorry,_ alright?" He sighed, raking his hand across the hair, making the already messy bangs even messier. "It's just…it pissed me off for some reason. That he is closer to you than me."

Harry blinked, dumbfounded. "Closer how?" He parroted. "Neither of us had known that we would be termed as Xanxus' adoptive parents just because I had a dumb idea to try and use my blood for transfusion. Xanxus is still his own person even if officially he is both of ours. You will still teach him. How does that mean anything had changed?"

Harry honestly didn't see how anything would change, aside from gaining another member to their already strange group.

He watched Kiritsugu face palm, the assassin groaning in both relief and frustration. His confusion doubled when Kiritsugu raised his head.

"Fine." Dark eyes were serious when they locked onto perplexed green ones. "But next one is mine."

Harry raised his eyebrows, now definitely amused. "And what makes you _think_ that next one will be yours, anyway?" He scoffed playfully, only to be gifted with one of Kiritsugu's, as he would term it later, Significant Looks.

"And what makes _you_ think that they wouldn't be?" Kiritsugu reiterated, a small smirk on his face widening when Harry blinked like a deer in headlights, obviously unprepared to include this scenario in the future possibilities.

* * *

(Somewhere in the distant future (past?), a certain Counter Guardian sneezed, causing him to miss his target and the arrow, which had been previously aimed to hit an apple in the orchard, veered off into the horizon, only to hit a particular mountain, triggering a rain of ashes and rivers of magma to pour down the mountainside and into the nearby town, the ash-laden clouds choking people living here.

That day, because of only one sneeze, a town named Pompeii was wiped off the world's map for a very, very long time to come.

And all because of one tiny, itty bitty sneeze.

… Whoops?)

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _Squalo didn't give his respects easily. In fact, the number of people who earned his respect could be counted on the fingers of a single hand._

 _Xanxus. Then that crazy swordsman. Later on, that fucking baseball brat. But if there was anyone Squalo treated with outright_ reverence _, then it was one Kotomine Kirei. The priest's mastery over his Black Keys was_ terrifying _to stand against, and even Belphegor who was master of knives admitted that the priest was leagues - no,_ light years _ahead of him._


	21. Chapter 21

**_Disclaimer_** _:_ I don't own any of those. If I had, you bet I would be reading the fanfiction made of it while sipping pina colada or something.

 ** _Shout Out:_** Regretfully, my schedule crashed and burned. Two reasons - I got sick and secondly, internet died on me. It literally crashed and burned. I don't know when I will manage to update again but rest assured, I am still writing.

 ** _Warnings:_** _**AU** _ on multiple scales, things are slowly getting ahead and there is saying out of the frying pan into the fire, or, Potter luck once again shows its teeth. And the teeth in question aren't very nice.

* * *

 _Now we are not afraid  
Although we know there's much to fear  
We were moving mountains long  
Before we knew we could, oh yes_

 _('When You Believe',_ by Mariah Carey _)_

* * *

The steps echoed through the empty corridor. By the sound of them, there were two people, though one was more of a shuffling ahead, while another set was barely heard, if it weren't for the place being incredibly sensitive to the sounds.

The place was dark and cold, the air within still and uncaring, just like it had been thousand years ago and more, when the place served as a secret gathering for the assassins of the Holy Order. Even if the Church nowadays presented a pious, more or less harmless image to the public, there had been a time, when the language to convince the leaders of the worldly side of the affairs, was also spoken via the tongue of daggers being slipped into the opposition's ribs and untraceable poison added to their water or wine. Christianity, for all of its humble beginnings, didn't remain one of the unofficial world powers by just preaching to the choir, as it were.

The two shadows walked on, uncaring of the dreary atmosphere. Sunshine lit the passages here and there, which was the only light afforded in their descent, the slits in the stone designated to be almost invisible from their vantage points, if it weren't for the sunlight quietly streaming through. The shadows were clad in black cloaks, the hoods shadowing their faces quietly efficiently, even if there was no need for such a caution, what with them being in the place few of people in this world knew about.

Vatican catacombs. Not many people knew about it; at least not to the extent than the ones in know. Their more famous double, Vatican Necropolis, had been exposed to the public for political, cultural and religious reasons, but the official paperwork was sorely lacking in the accuracy. It was just as well, because the place didn't serve only as an escape route for the popes if the need ever appeared, but the massive construction also housed the premiere library of ancient texts - some of them were said to originate from the dawn of the civilization, from time of the Golden King himself, books with the knowledge of things so beautiful and terrible that the knowledge they contained was better to be locked away, along with the texts which had boasted themselves of being the part of the ancient and much revered Library of Alexandria, one of the eight (officially seven,) wonders of the ancient world. Even if it wasn't really counted as an architectural marvel, the sheer volume of the books and rolls gathered within at the peak of its time made it a colossus of knowledge. Many had bemoaned its fall, and mourned the loss of the knowledge it contained.

But a part of the ancient library survived, carefully preserved and later on stashed within the fortress of a labyrinth, with the most devoted serving their entire lives, dedicating their knowledge, skills and if needed to, blood in preservation and defense of the treasury of knowledge held within the strongest wards and bounded fields known to man or being. It stood for a reason why even the infamous Troll of Clock Tower treaded lightly when going to this place, no matter in which universe he traipsed about.

Finally, it seemed that the two shadows came to the end of their path.

"I ask you again, young one. Are you sure you want to do that?" The hoarse, creaky voice came, from the smaller of the shadows, prompting the taller one to nod again.

"More than anything, revered father." The smaller shadow lifted its head, piercing blue eyes boring out of the darkness of the hood as the older man tilted his head.

" _Hrm._ Seems that you are not doing that out of selfless motives…" The taller form stiffened, but otherwise didn't make any untoward movement. The moment between the two stretched into what seemed to be an eternity, only for the moment - was it really only a moment? – being interrupted by the caretaker abruptly slapping what it seemed to be only a portion of the wall, causing the section to slid open with almost terrifying ease. "You search the knowledge, you will be given it. However, the price of having it may be more than you can afford."

His piece said, the guide seemed to meld into the shadows, leaving his follower in front of the doors that yawned at him, dark and deep, a toothless maw of secrets and danger.

Mumbling a quick prayer, the man standing in front of the door kissed the small golden cross that rested on his chest before cautiously proceeding into the room.

* * *

 _'… thus …po … had stolen the sacred text from our House in an attempt to create his own method of immortality, to rise in the sky like great Bennu. He shamed our House and broken the rules of hospitality; thus ….Ra –…. had sent the servants after him, to kill the thief and bring back his head. After many a trouble the servants managed to find him, but it was already too late. Hr… had managed to desecrate the holy teachings, using their blood and life force to create the abomination of phyl –_

 _-master had ordered us to extr-…..and…._

 _-managed to destroy the foul object, but for the price of his own life. The return back to house was one spent in tears and mourning the passing of the young master…. too late to preserve his life, for the ancient…. life for life and death for death. May gods be between him and any empty places where he must walk, may he safely pass the Trial of Maat, and be allowed to dwell in peace in hallowed lands!'_

Shaking his head, Kirei pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. His head hurt. As much as he loved knowledge, the process of gaining was not always pleasant. The writings were old and fragile, forcing him to be extra careful with materials. He didn't know how long he was here – was it half an hour? Two? More? A night? Aside from the artificial light, there were only documents, arrays of shadows, rows upon rows of boxes where the documents were stored, small table and him.

Exhaling a weary sigh, he bent down again dark eyes tracing from one document to another. While there were mentions of the soul fragments - Kirei had strongly suspected that the shard in Harry's head was a soul fragment, there was no mention about how they correlated with Flames. And according to the original texts, the only way to destroy the soul fragment was to destroy it - life for life and death for death.

To save Harry they would have to kill him.

Lips thinning with irritation, Kirei's eyes narrowed into glare. That outcome was unacceptable. Surely there had to be at least one way to extract the damnable thing without harming Harry in any way, shape or form.

His eyes drifted to the document he had read. The document had been destroyed and then carefully pieced together, as if someone was careful to omit the information. Whether it was intentional or not, Kirei didn't care, but the big, missing piece describing the failed extraction made his blood pressure rise.

Why was that the only useful bit of information he had found while he was in the room had been _scrapped off_ because of a couple of idiots mishandling the document in question!?

Fighting an urge to scream and indulge in some wanton destruction of his own, Kirei forced himself to exhale and once more bend down to the desk to decrypt in which section were the relevant documents to this one.

 _This was for Harry._ He reminded himself. So that Harry would live and smile and be with Kirei, safe and sound, without that disaster muddling his brain and life.

(But if he ever got to the idiots that had the _bright_ idea to mishandle the very text that could've been used to help him find the solution, Kirei swore the fools would suffer so greatly even _Alaya_ itself would pity them.)

(And considering that representation of Humanity could be as merciless as one could be, the fools' suffering - if Kirei ever found them - would indeed be _legendary.)_

* * *

Harry smiled fondly at Xanxus who was at the moment poking his tongue at the corner of his mouth while he concentrated into making… something… within his fist. Ever since they had seen that movie about the amnesiac man and his claws, Xanxus was bound and determined to recreate them by his lone self… somehow. Harry had supposed it was a harmless enough a project, considering that Kirei assured him that without Black Keys and its conduction properties there was next to nil chance that Xanxus would succeed in his endeavor - but trying would keep Xanxus' mind from his mother's death. Harry wasn't really sure about Kirei's prediction, because he saw the mix of orange, yellow and red around the kid - not so much like he had around his friends, but a faint, barely visible haze was there, spiking occasionally like the waves in a pond.

Closing his eyes, Harry tilted his head toward the ceiling. He had done all of his assigned homework, reading didn't really tickle his fancy and he sorely wished that he could've gone with Kirei to the archives. He would deny that to his death, but he honest to god pouted when Kirei told him that only he, as an Executor, was allowed to have the access, and even then there were restrictions. Kiritsugu went out to stock up on weapons and ammo while Soichiro was meditating in the small garden.

This left Harry alone with Xanxus in the living room, lazing his day away and wondering what could be done to alleviate his boredom. Xanxus was at least trying to recreate those weapons, and even if there was no success… Frowning a little, Harry's mind flashed back to all the times he had been in danger and relying on his wand.

But now he wasn't a wizard anymore - at least not officially - and he would have to rely on the other skills he had. While he was slowly taught the basics of self-defense and Kiritsugu spared an hour or two to try to teach him how to use guns…Harry's shoulders slumped. This had been a total and utter disaster from the get go's. At least Xanxus had a knack for the devil things; in Harry's hands they seemed to be weapons of mass chaos and destruction of everything but Harry's target. This was kind of irritating because with wand, he had had damn good aim if he said so. Guns? Not so much - if spoken truthfully, he would hit his target one time out of ten…. on _accident._

But considering what had happened the last time… it would've been a good idea to invest into at least some kind of a weapon. Fists were all well and good, but they didn't really help him against that Marzio bastard. Harry suppressed an involuntary shiver. He never, ever wanted to feel as helpless as he had right then. Even now, he sometimes had a flashback or two when he saw or heard certain things that made him remember the time he sent as Freccia's hostage.

Inhaling slowly, he closed his eyes. He knew he was weak without wand. That simple fact galled him like nobody's business. Wizards could do so many with a wand, but take it away, and they are just ordinary people, without any way to defend themselves, aside accidental magic and Apparation.

Harry stilled.

 _Accidental magic_. He didn't know why, but his mind was stuck on this one. He only too vividly remembered the instances when he performed it. That blue wig, how he appeared on the roof, vanished the glass in the zoo –

 _'If only I could do the same without a wand.'_ He thought to himself mournfully as he hunched into himself. It was galling that he had to rely on his friends to save and protect him. Harry was no fucking damsel in distress and he had no intentions to become one. But it wall disheartening to see just how much he had become dependent on one simple stick to help him survive all of that craziness that had happened in the last four years. The wizard scowled, huffing silently.

 _'And why couldn't you?'_ A tiny voice gently poked back _. 'Why couldn't you do something you've been doing even before you've received a wand?'_

Harry scrunched his nose. Accidental magic, he had been told, was just that - _accidental,_ appearing when he was at the height of a very intense emotion. _Fear. Anger. Rage._ Magic _had_ to be controlled to be useful. Having a control over one's magic meant having a wand.

But was that true? Harry tilted his head, green eyes blinking when he replayed the memory of the twins Apparating into Ron's room within a blink of an eye, no wand in sight.

…If having control over magic meant having a wand, then they would have to have used their wands to be successful in their endeavor. Which they didn't, but they still succeeded. Harry blinked, his heart stuttering when he comprehended what that meant for him. The proverbial gears in his brain began to move, frantically searching for additional proof for the seemingly impossible supposition.

Next piece of evidence, Snuffles. Upon his escape from Azkaban, Sirius didn't have any wand, and yet, he escaped…as a _dog._ Animagus transformation, like Sirius told him once, was one of the hardest aspects of Transfiguration, because not only the wizard in question had to have a good grasp on the transformation of one's body into his animal, but also the instincts of the said animal that came along with it. And of course, there was no foolish wand-waving involved. Now Harry was on a roll, his fingers tapping on his knee distractedly as he recalled one more instance.

That second year, with Basilisk… Harry had talked to a snake. No wand needed. Only magic... and imagination.

Harry carefully inhaled a lungful of air, as if too fast intake of an air would prompt the world's destruction.

No wand needed. Three words echoed in his skull, rearranging his entire view of the world.

 _No. Wand. Needed._

Exhale.

Slumping down on the couch, Harry actually felt faint with realization. It was too big, too _good_ to be true. Surely there had to be limits? There had to be. Because otherwise the wizards would've done away with the wands a long time ago and -

He didn't need a piece of wood or those nonsensical half-Latin words. He didn't need the wand. What he needed….

Harry swallowed thickly, the sound scarily noisy in the room. But Xanxus didn't look up, too preoccupied with him trying - trying and failing and trying again - to make those cool claws.

…what Harry needed, was the power of will and to _believe._

* * *

Kiritsugu stared at the emissary blankly.

"You want me to do _what?"_

His gun run was supposed to be just that - a gun run, to replenish his supply, get the info and feel what was going on in the magus sphere of things - it never hurt to have a proverbial ear close to the ground, so to speak.

Only for him to be approached by an unnaturally beautiful girl.

She was more like a petite, human-sized doll than anything else, what with her long blonde hair done in a strict bun with a few stands to frame her face and icy blue eyes. She was clad in modest attire made of knee-length skirt with a white blouse with a grey bow at her throat. If someone wouldn't have known better, they would have mistaken for a model of an assistant of some hotshot CEO. Only a small golden pin with an engraved crest denoted otherwise, and if someone had an experienced enough eye, they would have spotted the weapons she had stashed on her.

This had been exactly what had attracted Kiritsugu's attention in the first place. That, and when she spotted him, she had made a beeline straight for him, further confirming that she wasn't an ordinary person.

But when he had seen the crest, Kiritsugu knew.

He may not have been a traditional Magus, but he had the knowledge of one when it concerned the families on the top of the food chain of the Magi association. For some, he had done some jobs, but most of them - or at least their more unscrupulous members happened to be often enough on both his personal and official hit lists to earn him the nickname of Magus Killer.

However, despite his notoriety, even he was hesitant to go against Einzbern family. More often than not, it was a suicide waiting to happen. Jubstacheit 'Acht' Einzbern was not a person to annoy, much less to piss off. His word as a patriarch of one of the Five Great Families and co-creators of the Grail system reached far and wide.

And right now, the Homunculus - Kiritsugu was sure that this woman in front of him was homunculus, she was too perfect not to be anything else – had asked him to lend the Einzbern his hand in the coming Grail War. Never mind that the Grail War in question was still more than a decade away.

"You've heard me." The girl replied, her voice soft with an icy undertone. "Grandmaster Einzbern awaits your answer in five days from now." She stood up, nodding at the perplexed Magus Killer curtly. "I will be at the same place at seven in the morning next week to receive your reply. I bid you a good day."

Slamming his feelings down, Kiritsugu forced himself to return the nod. "Agreed." The girl scrutinized his face for some moments, trying to find out any falsities in his statement, but Kiritsugu was implacable. Finally, she bowed her head.

"Thank you for your time. I look forward to our next meeting."

Turning around, she melded in the crowd, leaving Kiritsugu alone, but with one more problem on his shoulder.

Frowning, the messy-haired teenager pinched the bridge of his nose.

This was no good. No good at all. While it would have been a huge bonus to have the Einzberns indebted to him, it was at the same time equal to walking into the dragon's maw and knowing that it would close upon them any time soon. With Harry in the picture, never mind Xanxus, the situation was even worse. Even if Harry had known what he was, Xanxus was a civilian without an iota of potential within him, aside from those crazy flames of his. And who knew what would happen if the kitty brat attracted the old monster's attention.

Dissection would be the _least_ of their worries.

 _'One week_.' Kiritsugu half huffed and half laughed at the thought as snatched the case and stood up, his mind already running through the possible solutions and scenarios, only to hit the same wall time and time again.

One week to decide.

 _What a_ _joke._

* * *

Finished with their dinner, all four of them were sitting around the table. Harry with his customary cup of tea, Kiritsugu elected to have coffee, while both Kirei and Soichiro staunchly insisted on having just a glass of water each. Both Kirei and Kiritsugu didn't look well. Harry looked at the duo, concerned and a little bit miffed that neither of the two wanted to spill the beans.

Well, enough was enough, and if Harry was able to do anything right now, it was to roll with the punches as it were. Soichiro gave him an almost imperceptible mood. Inhaling, Harry steeled himself for what boded to be one very uncomfortable discussion.

Luckily for them Xanxus was out cold after his day of experimenting with the flames, the small boy now snoozing the dinner away on a bean bag in front of the TV in the living room. Harry smiled at the memory – Xanxus seemed to be so cute, and dare he say, innocent when he slept on the leaf green bag, small snores coming out of the boy's mouth, as if he were a tiny kitten. _Kitty brat_ was one hell of an accurate nickname for the little hellion, not that Harry would ever tell him that.

Blinking, he shook his head. He had to focus on the more important things than thinking about Xanxus' unexpectedly cute side.

Xanxus had taken the revelation of the wizarding world surprisingly well, and he was not scared of the goblins. Contrarily, he was fascinated with the shiny weapons the guards had been carrying, much to Harry's dismay and the goblins' amusement. Much to the four friend's shock, the goblins seemed positively _approving_ of Xanxus for some reason, not minding his abrasive behavior the least. Still, Harry privately thought that a lesson or two on a civilized etiquette wouldn't be amiss. Goblins were one thing, but if Xanxus had behaved like he had in the non-magical world… well, there was a saying that one ought to be prepared to back up their words and actions, be that with power, wit, cunning, cash or violence.

A sharp slap echoed against the wood of kitchen's table, causing both Kirei and Kiritsugu startle out of their dark thoughts and zero on the green eyed wizard.

"Alright." Harry snapped out, glaring at the two. "What's going on? And don't try to bullshit and tell me that everything is all good and dandy!" He addressed Kiritsugu, who already opened his mouth to refute Harry's words, only to snap it close and sheepishly grin. Well, the grin was more of a grimace, which heightened Harry's alarm quite a bit.

Bemused, Kirei shook his head, his lips tilting a small quirk as he glanced at Kiritsugu. The assassin bristled at him, but under Harry's stern stare, his shoulders dropped with defeat. "It had been a long day…and not a good one." Kiritsugu muttered, frowning as he massaged his right temple with the tips of his fingers. "Kirei, go first." The sooner the damned priest would spit out his beans, the sooner Kiritsugu could deal with whatever headache it would incur.

Kirei nodded. "I've researched some of it, but up until now, I've only got some leads, and they are not very reliable at this point. A person, Her-something had apparently stolen the method of making a phylactery from the ancient House. The young master had managed to destroy it, but…" His jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak up the damning words. "Life for life, death for death." Harry had paled upon hearing them, causing Kirei's heart into the bottom of his stomach.

"Nothing that we haven't heard before, huh." Harry muttered to himself, his eyes closing with dismay.

"This is not all of information, and I am still waiting on the missive from Father Adriano." Kirei's lips tightened and his brows furrowed. He leaned forward, his eyes intense as he zeroed all of his attention on Harry, desperately trying to convince him that there had to be a solution somewhere, it was only a matter of time. "The document in question wasn't whole - there was an entire section missing the description on how exactly they dealt with the phylactery in question. Considering that the phylactery in question was an object and not a living person – "He ended with a hiss, snapping a glare at Kiritsugu for his kick into the shin. The dark-eyed assassin may have not looked like much, but damn, his kicks still hurt.

Kiritsugu glared at him even harder, and then flicked his eyes to Harry. Kirei followed the line of his eyesight and immediately felt even worse than he already had. While he took joy in tormenting his victims, Harry had been the sole exception to a rather long and extensive list of them. He watched as Harry shrugged the motion stiff and unnatural.

"Shit happens." The young wizard muttered his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation. "We'll deal with it. Kiritsugu?" He addressed the assassin, his eyes still firmly closed, as he tried to digest the latest hurdle in his bid for a freedom.

There was a long pause. Kiritsugu opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to say something, but unable to do so.

"Kiritsugu?" Harry asked again, frowning. "What's the matter?" Green eyes opened, zeroing on the squirming assassin concernedly.

Kiritsugu grimaced. "Einzbern wants me." There. Short and to the point. Harry blinked. "Einzbern wants you for what? For that matter, _who_ is that Einzbern person?" He was more confused than afraid. Kiritsugu scoffed.

"Old man Acht Jubstacheit Einzbern." He grimaced as the name scraped his tongue. "The leader of the Einzbern house, one of the Three Founding Families, known for his mysteries about making Homunculi - in other words, live dolls - and his House also majorly contributed to the making of a Grail system. In other way, a man not to be crossed lightly."

Harry was horrified. Live _dolls?_ Surely that was an anathema to the laws of nature? He distantly remembered the book about Frankenstein and shuddered. Nothing good could come out of this. But what was that Grail system? And why did he have a feeling they were about to deal with a crueler and more shrewd version of Dumbledore?

Kirei uncharacteristically swore underneath his breath, gathering their wide-eyed attention. As a priest, Kirei kept his mouth clean of curses, so it was a huge shock to hear him utter an oath about the subject.

"How dangerous is he?" Soichiro asked calmly. "Can we deal with him quietly?"

Translation: did they need to assassinate the man to be left alone?

Kirei shook his head. "Even Church is very, _very_ careful when dealing with him. Actually, it was the Church that gave their blessings to making the Holy Grail system." He addressed Harry who was attentively listening to him. "Both Magi and Church side pursue what is called the Root of Akasha. It is said that if someone would succeed to see the Akashic records - in layman's terms, records of all living and creation and live to tell the tale, that person would be, in short, a new God, so to speak. "Harry's jaw dropped at the revelation. "S-so that means Bible was wrong?" He stuttered, surprised.

"Not necessarily." Kiritsugu interjected. "But think about this like an experiment, to prove or disprove our knowledge of creation." He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. "The Magi all over the world are researching the ways and methods to reach the Root, but up until now, nobody had made any significant headway about it. Two hundred years back, the three families - Tohsaka, Makiri, and Einzbern, along with Zelretch and the Church side designated something of a game and system called Holy Grail Wars."

"But why Holy Grail?" Harry interrupted. "Isn't that just a myth?" Kirei shook his head at the confused wizard pityingly. "Harry. When it comes to Magi side of things, there are _very_ few things that could be classified as a _'just a myth'_. Holy Grail _is_ real, but the problem is how to make it appear to make a wish. The Grail system does just that. Seven Magi each summon one soul from the Throne of Heroes – persons who had done in their lives such great deeds that were deemed as heroes. For example, someone could've Summoned Merlin if one would have something of Merlin's to act as a catalyst."

Harry was silent. Then he opened his mouth. "Holy… I don't know what to say. But _why?_ Isn't that bad, a necromancy?" He bit his lip, concerned. "And why don't wizards know about that?"

Kiritsugu chuckled. "It's not a necromancy, because Summoning takes a soul and then fleshes it out, so to speak, with the summoner's mana. In essence, the summoned heroes, called Servants, look just like an ordinary human would - you could touch them, pinch them and even wound them, and the body reactions would be the same as if they had real bodies. The summoners, also called Masters, pair up with their Servants and Servants then fight to death between each other." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. "The last Master-Servant pair standing is granted their choice of wish by the Grail." Kiritsugu became serious. "Up until now, the three Grail Wars were unsuccessful because of many different reasons. The wizards don't have any knowledge of it because it happens every fifty years, and because it's happening in Japan. Fuyuki is a strict no-wizards zone, and the second owner of Fuyuki enforces this policy very strictly. Einzbern wants me because I have a 100 percent rate of success in my missions. What I don't get is why is he calling for me ten years before the fourth Grail War ought to commence." He concluded darkly, his eyebrows furrowed with annoyance.

Harry nodded slowly, completely stupefied with the amount of information Kiritsugu had revealed. He had no idea that someone could literally summon people who were thought just a myth or a legend. "Couldn't you reject the invitation, or at least delay it?" He murmured, concerned. His fingers twisting anxiously as he looked at his friend hopefully. His heart fell when Kiritsugu regretfully shook his head. "One does not reject the invitation by the leader of one of the Three Founding Families. To do so means immediate Sealing Designation on the fool who had done so." Kiritsugu muttered, his dark eyes troubled.

Involuntarily wincing Harry blanched at the proclamation. Sealing Designation was an order to kill on sight, and anyone who had earned it better be prepared to run and hide for their entire lives. Kirei had told him a little about the Executors and what they were doing – one of their jobs also entailed to capture and destroy beings tagged with Sealing Designation. "So damned if you do, damned if you don't huh?" He asked, biting his lip.

"Exactly." Kiritsugu affirmed sardonically.

Harry inhaled. "Well. I suppose I'd better learn German, then." He concluded, causing Kiritsugu to gape at him. Kirei shook his head, exasperated. He should've known that Harry would want to do that. Mentally, he already began to plot how to make the search for the information in the catacombs as concise as possible, along with dealing with his superiors. So much to do, so little time.

"Learn German? But, but _why?"_ Kiritsugu was in a rare position of helplessly floundering. Harry's eyebrows quirked at him, the wizard obviously amused at his confusion.

"Because I am going with you, of course!"

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

"What _did they do to my Nii-san?" A cool voice asked, causing the messenger to shudder at the promise of ice and hellfire the simple sentence spoken with a soft, charming voice held within its syllables._

 _"T-They froze him, Ma-am." The messenger fought not to bolt from his place where he had been kneeling for a better part of an hour. Sometimes, those strange traditions were just a pain in the ass - or in his case, pain in the knees. Who was still that old-fashioned in those modern times to demand of messenger to kneel on the freezing cold floor like he was some kind of a vassal?_

 _But when he dared to look in those ruby red eyes, the rookie_ mafioso _swallowed back the curse and heeded his impulse to stay the fuck still and don't move an inch._

 _She was petite and fragile looking, what with her small, but still curvy stature, clothed in a simple ensemble of white dress that faded into the pales of blue from the waist down. White strands were partially bound in a crown that held the mass of hair away from a face that was all too lovely, with its perfect pink lips, pert nose and arched white eyebrows - the only thing that betrayed just how inhuman the beautiful vision of a young woman in front of him was, were her wide red eyes, so very akin to rubies or garnets._

 _If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that this fragile little snowflake of a young woman was the bastard's little sister. They were certainly similar enough - only where that filthy Varia dog was fire, she was a mix of air and ice – looking like the tiniest touch could've shattered her irreparably, but her core was ice cold. Never mind that she wasn't in a mafia - she was dangerous, even more so than so-called Strongest Rain, one Lal Mirch._

 _He truly, deeply pitied the fools who dared to incapacitate her brother, for their days were numbered._

 _And he dearly hoped that he wouldn't be counted among them._


	22. Chapter 22

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the background stories aka originals. I am just writing and having fun.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Thank you for your well-wishes and patience. I am recovering and hopefully, my schedule will stabilize enough to allow regular updating soon. So, Harry on move again, Soichiro is also trouble magnet and of course Kirei is not a happy camper. But when is he, really?

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU** _ on multiple scales, some cursing and things are getting hairy the Harry way.

* * *

 _Linked through the liquid crystal display_

 _Is the sun which erases the noise_

 _The elliptical way which is laid out_

 _If you can shake it off, fly from there_

 _Through the windows of this building I can see_

 _The sky in the distance like a bird aiming for it_

 _I will go to it at any price_

 _To the 'ridiculous tomorrow', are you still wishing for something?_

 _Do you want to label it and see if you can confirm it?_

 _The blurred bind is 'No Name'._

 _('No Name',_ by _Team AAA)_

* * *

Germany was … a disappointing experience. Secretly, Harry had much higher expectations for the country that caused so much trouble to the planet, what with the two world wars, but instead of seeing stiff-backed, military-barking and uniform-wearing people, he had been confronted with … people. People who were talking in a foreign language - foreign to him - sure, but people all the same.

Someone once said that the more things change, the more they remain the same. And Harry had to agree it was true. Italy was a novelty, so different from England it may as well been two different worlds rather than countries. Different cultures, different outlooks on the world, different everything. A little bit more leisure and a dash more open and passionate, enchanted with idea of love and passion, and life, so rich and colorful and decadent, just like their food.

In comparison, Germany was a startling contrast. Still warm, but with some kind of cold efficacy, driven by their clocks and overall ideals of perfection. That's not to say people here were cold - they were far from it, but they were not as touchy-feely as their southern brothers - a little bit more cautious and distant. Their food was hearty and warm, causing Harry to feel quite drowsy in the evening, as if he were under thick, warm woolen blanket, safe and sound.

The mountains were majestic, and more than once was Harry enchanted by the colorful panorama of nature fleeing by the train's windows. He felt some kinship with the country – it had been similar enough to England that it mattered somehow, only less flat and with more mountains…. And of course, more sunshine. The only thing he could complain in this entire affair was that they had to leave Kirei behind though it appeared Kiritsugu was not really regretful of this last minute amendment to the original plan.

(Kirei, Harry thought, looked quite miffed when he revealed that he had been held back by some… unfortunate circumstances. Harry didn't ask, and Kirei didn't tell.)

August was slowly approaching its zenith. So the imposing castle in which they ought to life for a foreseeable future was all the more welcoming sight, even more so when it was surrounded by the greenery of the nearby forests and fields.

The castle in question was a strange, almost eclectic mix of different, almost random architectural elements - in one moment, Harry was reminded of an ancient abbey, but in the next he saw the towers of a castle any such fortress would be proud of, with the added towers, huge bridges, small enclaves hanging from the base structure, add-ons like some kind of an whimsical afterthought of an insane architect. The whole picture made for a quite intimidating sight…that didn't make any sense whatsoever.

Harry was used to Hogwarts - the ancient castle was first and foremost a fortress, what with its numerous towers and thick walls, and to see the famed Einzbern castle, seemingly so defenseless, unsettled him. It was like a premonition on just what kind of people were living within the building.

* * *

 ** _*A week before*_**

Ever since Harry had said that he would go to Germany alongside Kiritsugu, Kirei had been in a foul mood. It didn't help that Kiritsugu was one smug little bastard on the issue, but what made the situation even worse, was that his Master had called him back - Kirei inwardly cursed the Church's almost obsessive need to account for their more… eclectic members. While it made for an easy access to the people in a question, it was also a certain pain in the ass when one didn't want to be bothered. The young priest was one of those unlucky people right now, and the cause for it was his Master, who was, coincidentally, also a Second Owner of a certain city.

Kirei usually didn't feel any wrath. What was there to feel?

But right now, standing across the flamboyant man, be couldn't help but he could throttle the bastard. Or not - surely some torture beforehand wouldn't be amiss?

"As I've said Kirei…" Kirei politely nodded at the man's ramblings - usually, he would've been interested in them, because even if the man was a fool, that didn't mean he was completely stupid, and Tokiomi Tohsaka was an authority in his field of research. Today however, Kirei immersed himself in thinking how to go about causing the fool the most amount of discomfort without revealing that he was the culprit for the fool's sufferings.

Harry wouldn't have approved, but Kirei thought it was a vast improvement from Kirei just grabbing the man and then go all Executor on him in some dark and abandoned dungeon. Nobody, and he meant _nobody_ aside their little group was allowed to make him miss his Harry time!

(There had to be something wrong in thinking like that, but Kirei hadn't noticed it… _yet_.)

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was contently sipping hot chocolate in his favorite café corner. Even if this particular café was primarily for the drinkers of the ground bitter beans, that didn't meant they didn't have Kiritsugu's face, when he announced that he would be going with him in Germany, would surely power the _Patronus_ with enough power to ward off hundreds of Dementors. His mouth twitched into a small impish smirk when he recalled - yet again - that particular moment of Kiritsugu being absolutely flummoxed that anyone, much less Harry, wanted to follow him anywhere. Harry frowned. He had known that all of them had their own share of difficulties, and their lives, screwed up as they had been, hadn't helped them any. Any psychiatrist would have had a heyday with any of them. PTSD, low self-confidence, an over-fixation on things or ideas, no idea of self-preservation, the list could go on and on, never mind their personal issues. While Kiritsugu's surprised face was kind of funny, it also hurt that Kiritsugu thought he was still alone, not even dreaming that someone had cared about him enough to go with him in the lion's den, so to speak.

Kiritsugu had tried to convince him to stay with Kirei – and Harry agreed that it would've been the most logical choice. He had seen how Kiritsugu's shoulders drooped with relief, but his eyes dulled with disappointment and hurt. When Harry stood by his decision, those dull eyes widened, and a small, familiar spark ignited in their dark depths. Kiritsugu had argued, but by then, all of them knew his protests were half-hearted, if that. Harry felt a pinch of guilt for leaving Kirei, even if his friend reassured him that it was alright. Harry's guilty conscience was both appeased and fed when he spent his remaining time with the young priest learning the basics of language of the country he would visit. German language reminded him of a steel silk - harsh and unyielding, but at the same time smooth and grounded, a complete antithesis to Italian, which flowed like particularly lively river.

"May I sit here?" Harry blinked, startled out of his musings. He looked up… and up, into twinkling red eyes.

 _Holy fuck!_

Harry barely reigned his impulse to overturn the desk and then… what? His muscles seized, torn between the fight or flight responses. Red eyes _never_ meant anything good.

His indecision had to be shown on his face, because the gentleman in front of him chuckled with amusement. "I don't bite, lad." His voice was smooth, bellying his appearance of an elderly man. Even if he had gray hair, his posture was that of a young man in his prime, and if his clothes were a little bit outdated, it could be a given the old man was an eccentric of some sort.

"Uh. Oh, sorry, of course. Forgive me, I was…" Harry paused "Thinking about something." He finished lamely, cheeks heating with embarrassment.

The man chuckled. "Happens to the best of us." He hummed cheerfully when he commandeered the chair opposite the young wizard. Harry gave him a small, hesitant smile. The fellow looked, aside his strange wardrobe choices and red irises, relatively harmless.

But _relatively harmless_ didn't mean he couldn't be dangerous. Harry had learned this lesson the hard way. And the man gave off the same kind of vibe as Dumbledore, only without the _'my dear boy'_ addition that usually colored Harry's meetings with him.

"So why did you chose to approach me when there is many empty tables around?" Straight, rude and to the point. Harry's inner Englishman sensibilities cried offense, but the old man just chortled, his eyes lightening with… pleasure?

"Hah, rude and to the point, I like you! And you seemed like a good choice of a company, so why not?" The old man grinned, white teeth flashing underneath his bushy moustache, while his well-maintained beard trembled with amusement. The deep furrows on his face lightened a bit, making him look a little less severe. "So, any recommendations on the drinks here?" He leaned back on the chair, looking like a careless tourist himself.

Harry couldn't help but smile back. Something in this old man's demeanor made him relax, if only for a little bit. "Well, their hot chocolate is to die for, but if you want anything with coffee, I am not your person to talk to. Though their tiramisu is also excellent." He related, amused.

"Well, I could do with something sweet to pick me up," The old man mused, waving the waiter to come. After giving his order, his focus was back on Harry. "So. How do you like Italy, lad?"

Harry shrugged. "It has its ups and downs." He replied cryptically, thinking back on the affair with Freccia and meeting with Xanxus. "But I wouldn't mind to stay here for a longer time." He concluded, a little bit regretful.

The man's bushy eyebrows raised. "Oh? It's always a shame when the trip is cut short." The man nodded to himself sagely.

Grimacing, Harry exhaled. "Well, no. Just… plans have changed. My friend was invited to a family for a… representation of his craft," Harry couldn't believe that he was telling a complete stranger. "And it's important for him. I insisted to come along, but it's in Germany and I don't know the language and I think I would be more of a burden than support – "

His babble was cut short when the waiter placed the old man's hot chocolate in front of him. The drink was in a tall glass, topped with a glob of cream almost as big as Harry's fist and generously sprinkled with bits of caramel with a small drizzle of chocolate to finish the concoction.

"Then why did you insist to go with him?" The old man spoke, his voice gentle. Harry slumped. "It … seemed like a good idea at a time?" He replied, sheepish. The old man silently picked up a spoon and scooped some of the cream. He ate the first mouthful, humming thoughtfully.

"You know, if that friend of yours didn't want you come along with him, he would've declined." He pointed out calmly, his eyebrows wiggling a little in challenge.

Harry let out a bitter bark. "I don't think so. We've met after …some less than ideal circumstances." He moodily scooped his own mouthful of the gooey goodness. It was just the right mixture of bitter and sweet and he made a note to try and replicate it. "We have been separated when we were kids by our parents, without as much of a by your leave. And because I was a bit of a fragile kid, he was kind of an overprotective mother hen back then." All three of them were. "And he still is." Harry paused, green eyes sliding to half-mast as he remembered. "But the look in his eyes when he told us that he had to go – well, it was unfair." He looked at the buildings and the blue sky in the distance, reflected in the windows' glass.

"Unfair to him or you?" The man prodded, scoping out a mixture of chocolate and cream, humming with delight when the taste hit his taste buds.

Harry blinked. He… didn't think about that. "I… Well. It's a little bit of both." He replied slowly, his brain racing. "A little bit unfair of me because I haven't seen them for such a long time. Honestly, it had been a shock to see him in church," He chuckled briefly before he became serious once again. "And I think I feel kind of guilty for not being with him since we've been forced apart." And he had. Feel guilty, for all three of them, no matter how much they reassured them that it was fine. But the guilt went both ways, he supposed, because he had seen them insecure about their positions in his life. It had been kind of a rash decision, to just quit everything and just go his merry way.

"You were a kid back then." The man - Harry seriously had to find out his name - hummed thoughtfully. "You couldn't have done anything. Honestly, I think you are brave to just follow him into completely different country just like _that_." Elegant fingers clicked together with a snap. Red eyes were serious when the old man gazed into wide green ones.

Harry shook his head. "I don't feel brave," He confessed, his shoulders slumping further. "I've made a mess of things and I am afraid I will bungle it up again. But this time, I absolutely can't."

"Then let him help you not to bungle things up." Came the rational answer. The old man tilted his head up, basking in the afternoon sun carelessly, like old cat. "You are a good lad, with your head and heart in the right place. And even if you mess things up, you won't be the first, nor will you be the last. We all mess up, sometimes the mess is salvageable, sometimes not. But it's not about the mess, it's what you do when you are in the middle of it. Tell me, kiddo, do you trust that friend of yours?" Red eyes opened slightly.

"I do." The answer was firm and quick, surprising Harry. But he did. He really did.

"And he trusts you, too. Otherwise he wouldn't have accepted your offer to come along. He will need your support just as much as you do his." The man concluded, his words causing Harry stiffen with dread. "As long as both of you trust each other, I don't see why that road trip of yours shouldn't work out, language barriers or not. The old man lazily wiggled his fingers as to quote/unquote the _'road trip'_. Harry had to suppress a hysteric chuckle.

Road trip, indeed. If only it would be that simple. But then, his name wouldn't have been Harry Potter. Involuntarily, the corners of his mouth twitched, at first into a small smile, and then into a helpless grin.

"What happens, happens, right?" He concluded, and his heart was a little bit lighter. The old man grinned back at him cheekily, his red eyes twinkling with mischief, for some reason reminding him of Sirius when he was in one of his more lucid moments.

"Atta boy!" The old man declared. After a small pause, both of them burst into a happy laughter.

 ** _/End flashback/_**

* * *

Harry smiled when he remembered back to that day. He hadn't known just how much he had needed someone to talk to, even if it had been just a stranger. But that old man didn't judge him, he just asked some questions that helped with clearing Harry's thoughts.

He actually had fun. Old man Marshal was unlike any old person Harry had talked to - funny and witty with a dash of common sense but still appreciative of the lighter side of life, especially pranks. Some of them caused Harry laugh hard to cry. He couldn't help but think that old man Marshal had to be the twins' long lost grandpa - or at least he could have been, what with that mischievous twinkle in those unusual ruby-like eyes.

They had promised to keep in contact, and Harry, in a fit of daring amusement, kept mum about the owl post. Besides, he thought the old man would get a good kick out of it.

He frowned a little as he looked at the wrist clock. Kiritsugu should have been back already, but the master of the manor apparently decided to hold him back about the details.

The manor's personnel were every bit as intimidating as the building. Cold, efficient and unnerving. There was something distinctly inhuman in their movements and manners, indicating to their…origin. When he had first seen them, Harry had been surprised that those servants were, in fact, dolls. Not that they looked like dolls - they could pass for humans without any problems if they were a little bit more… diverse in their facial expressions. Harry decided to let that oddity go - if he could stomach house elves, which were living beings, he should have no problems being surrounded with human-like automatons…Probably.

As the assistant of Magus Killer he was given a small room opposite Kiritsugu. The place had basic amenities - the bed, night stand, a wardrobe and adjoined bathroom. It wasn't quite Hogwarts, but it wasn't cupboard under the stairs, either. It was simple and functional, proclaiming his state in the household quite clearly – a hired servant. No more, nor less. Frowning, he bit his lip. Whatever Kiritsugu was tangled in, Harry hoped –

Huffing, he dragged his suitcase onto the bed. It was more for appearances' sakes, considering that he had invested into a shrinking trunk. Still… Harry frowned, confused. A simple suitcase shouldn't have weighted so much, especially when stuffed with only clothes.

The suitcase was simple dark gray with borders in black. It was a little bit too big for all the stuff Harry had been talked into bringing along, but Soichiro wouldn't be swayed. He had pointed out that even if Harry didn't need to take along so many things, the appearances mattered, and they didn't know just how long Kiritsugu was expected to be at the Einzberns. So, better safe than sorry. Harry had grudgingly agreed, especially when Kirei had pointed out that revealing Harry being a wizard was an absolute last resort in case any of them got into trouble.

Still, Harry thought, that Soichiro chose that monster of a suitcase just because Harry had offhandedly pointed out its color was similar to Soichiro's eyes. Huffing with exasperation, Harry couldn't help but smile at the memory of his friend, already missing the quiet young man. Soichiro had elected to stay behind for his own reasons, but promised to join them later as soon as Kiritsugu would call for him.

But back to suitcase in question. Harry frowned. He didn't think that the suitcase was that heavy - Kirei and Soichiro handled it without any problems, and when they came into Germany, one of the drivers who had been sent to drive them to Einzbern castle handled it. Also without any problems. Harry frowned more. He wasn't so weak as to be defeated by one measly suitcase now, was he?

"Alright, let's unpack!" He declared to himself, his hands busying themselves with opening the belts. The suitcase was an old school leather-bound one, with belts closing it together. Gritting his teeth, Harry tackled the first one, and after a minute or two, he opened it. Another one followed it shortly, but Harry still glared at the menace. Why that was his friends made the act of opening and closing that monster easy as a pie, and here he was, struggling with the thing as if he were a newborn baby?

Growling now, he hauled the lid open, only to frown again. His previously carefully folded clothes were a mess. Bulge here, bulge there and ooh, yeah, another mass of wrinkles.

Now, Harry would be the very last person to admit, but he had a mild case of OCD, helpfully provided and carefully nurtured by a certain aunt. And to see his perfectly folded new clothes treated no better than used toilet paper made his fingers twitch and blood pressure raise to a slightly unhealthy levels.

He would have to have a _word_ with suitcase carriers, but for now –

He mournfully picked an article of clothing, resigning himself to making an order out of the mess that was his clothes. He briefly looked at the said mess and frowned.

It wasn't _natural._

Did Kiritsugu use his suitcase for another of his heavyweight weapons or something?

And if so, why didn't he tell Harry so? Surely it would've been easier if Harry had stashed anything into his trunk and –

Grasping a random bunch of clothes and mentally crying at their wrinkled glory, he quickly tossed them aside.

And nearly got a heart attack when he saw the reason for the suitcase being so troublesome.

 _"Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine."_ His voice was deathly quiet, but quickly rising to scorching levels or anger. "What the fuck are you doing _here!?"_

Sleepy reddish brown eyes blinked into his own green ones, before their owner comprehended that he was in a Very Deep Trouble, making them widen as their owner shrunk back into the pile of mess that was previously Harry's pristine and extraordinarily beautifully folded clothes.

"Um. Following you?" The culprit, now known as Xanxus, squeaked out.

If that had been an anime, Harry would've reached at least Level Three Crosshairs, but as it was, his blood pressure hit the roof, causing the glass in the windows to ominously rattle when he forced himself to smile at his wayward child he had thought was safe back in Italy with Kirei and Soichiro.

"Is that so?" His mildly worded question prompted the already small bundle shrink even further.

* * *

 _Devil_. He was a _devil_. That was the only reasonable conclusion Xanxus could reach when he stared at Harry's clearly pissed off, but still kindly smiling face.

This was the most terrifying sight Xanxus had seen in his short life up until now. Sure, he had seen people being killed, mauled and broken bones didn't faze him much, but the sight of his _turista_ being angry enough to reach an apoplectic level of fury, and what was even worse, still holding that temper back, was a little bit too daunting.

And the windows' rattling ominously didn't help much. There may have been a thunder and lightning, too, but Xanxus couldn't be sure. All he later remembered from that time was the feeling of a terror so strong that it actually surpassed any other kind of fear he had experienced ever before in his young, foolish life.

"Y-yes?" He offered meekly, wishing that he wouldn't have had the stupid idea to sneak into the stupid suitcase. Maybe it would've been better to stay back with priest and assassin, no matter how prickly the duo would get with him.

(Well, Kirei _would._ Kuzuki didn't have any unsympathetic sentiments toward his person... _probably._ While the assassin wasn't as vocal as either Executor or Magus Killer he was no doubt just as possessive of the green eyed youth that had unknowingly dragged all of them under his spell.)

Right now, even Kirei's wrath would've been better than Harry's unique brand of disapproval.

"Are you _telling me_ …" Harry drawled slowly "That you managed to _sneak_ into _my_ suitcase _without_ me knowing _anything,_ got willingly _smuggled_ into the _worst_ territory you could be in just because you wanted to do… what?"

Xanxus opened his mouth to agree. His self-preservation instinct, however, knew better and made his mouth snap shut when a light of realization dawned in those green eyes.

"You … couldn't have closed the suitcase by yourself. And that means you had to have an _accomplice."_ Harry muttered, his anger subsiding for a moment, before it ratcheted even higher than before. Of all the stupid - ! Harry took a deep breath or two, before he spoke. His voice was even, if a little shaky with adrenaline boost that came when he was trying to deal with the aftermath of a scare that could've ended very differently.

"Xanxus. This was _seriously_ uncalled for. Do you have _any_ idea just how close to death you've came? If you hadn't had enough of air, you could've been suffocated to _death,_ and right now I could've been seeing your _corpse_ instead! Do you know what that would've done to me - not knowing that you were inside and that I could've helped but couldn't because I didn't know about that _idiotic_ stunt of yours?" Harry growled out, now sorely tempted to spank the brat. He had seen Xanxus flinch and cringe, and for a moment, he felt terribly guilty, but he steeled himself.

"I left you behind, because I knew you would be safe and secure – "

"And that's just it! You l _eft_ me! You left _me_ when you promised the that you wouldn't!" Xanxus snapped back, his lower lip trembling a little as he gazed at Harry with accusing eyes.

Harry jerked back, stung. "I would've _returned!"_ He snapped out, before quickly looking to the door. He jerked his head back, glaring at the mulish brat who was sitting in the middle of his suitcase, with his arms crossed on his tiny chest like he was some kind of miffed djinn.

A miffed djinn in scruffy brown trousers and oversized gray T-shirt, Harry had a sneaking suspicion Xanxus filched off Soichiro's usual sleeping attire.

"How would I know that!" Xanxus bit back, his eyes now only having a tint of brown in them, a sure fire sign that his temper was taking hold of him.

Harry opened his mouth, ready willing and able to spit out a scathing retort. But that look in Xanxus' eyes halted him.

It was like looking into a mirror after his second year. When his trust had been burned seriously for the first time, accused as he had been, of being Slytherin's Heir. And then once more, that nightmarish year of a Tournament. Only, the eyes seeing back into his own were not his familiar green, but reddish brown of an another person. Another little boy who had been scorned by the world all too early.

Closing his eyes and sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He should've expected that.

Xanxus was just enough of a brat to take a preemptive strike to something he didn't want to deal with - in this case, Harry's return.

"It's too fucking _wrong_ of a time to deal with this shit." He declared wearily as he let his hand fall and eyes open again to look at the stubborn child still residing in his suitcase as if the meagre construct could act as a fortress against Harry's anger.

"You're right, you didn't have any guarantee." Seeing Xanxus' triumphant smirk, he raised his head, forestalling the brat's bragging. "You will _never_ have _any_ guarantee that someone will come back or not. _Anything_ could happen. But I _ask_ _you_ to at least have _faith_ that I would do _anything_ to come back to you."

He concluded wearily, his voice a bit bitter and resigned. He didn't expect Xanxus to understand that. Heck, he himself didn't want to accept that particular bitter pill as it were.

Xanxus was biting his lip. "I don't _want_ to have faith. I want _you_ to come back to _me_ , always, you _stupido turista_. If you _fail_ – " the boy's breath hitched as he grabbed the fabric on his chest anxiously, before he seemingly gotten his stubbornness back "I will fucking _revive_ you and drag you from the depths of inferno _myself!"_

Harry couldn't help but let his eyebrows raise with both disbelief and amusement. The brat was bold, very bold. And for some reason, he didn't have any doubt that Xanxus wouldn't do exactly what he described he would. The corners of his lips twitched into an involuntary smile.

"Well. I shall aim to stay alive and return back to you, then." He deadpanned, earning himself a scowl and a half-grateful glance which was quickly hidden behind the sour façade of the boy's face.

Their little truce was harshly interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door.

" _Herr_ Potter? Master wishes of you to join him in the dining room." A muffled cool voice announced, causing duo to eye each other like a pair of deer caught in headlights.

* * *

Pale eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing irises the color of red ruby. Their owner looked around blearily, not really seeing anything, their long hair floating behind them like some kind of a sickly yellowish green flag, made of multitude of strands.

The being didn't see anything, but feeling… oh, feeling was a different matter altogether.

Even if this person's mind worked slowly - ever so slowly, like a glacier sliding down the mountain, insurmountable in its size and destructive potential, yet laughably easy to avoid because if its speed, the feelings –

That _warmth._

That fiery **_warmth_** , about to _destroy_ and _protect_ , an infinite ouroboros of possibilities ever changing, yet encased in yet another, wider _warmth_ that also housed the cold _warmth_ –

The last one - _cold warmth_ \- didn't make any kind of sense, the being didn't really know what warm and cold was, even if they had the concepts integrated within their brain, but feelings - _insticts_ \- encompassed any pathetic logical reasoning they attempted to make with just their existence, their very _being._

They _felt._

And for the first time, they **_wanted._**

Wanted to be _close_ to this strangely wondrous phenomenon.

Because it felt… so… **_good._**

Pale lips twitched into a small facsimile of smile before sliding back into the implacable mask of an otherworldly pretty doll.

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _Mafia Land was overall a neutral territory for different crime families and groups from all over the world. It was a place for them to relax, enjoy, do the relatively bloodless things - if making and sealing different contract, ranging from information ones to business and family ones counted as bloodless. People could be gouged for insurmotable sums of money, and the play of a dice more or less decided the fate of ordinary mortals who were working and sleeping in the good faith that were safe from the underworld, protected by their laws, courts and police._

 _Mafia Land – a land where sin was both encouraged and restricted to … reasonable levels. At least reasonable for criminals of the calibers that were the island's regular visitors._

 _Mafia Land had seen its fair share of insanity – how could it not, with the Flames abound on the tiny scrap of the ground and their accredited qualities. Even if the peace was strictly enforced, 'peace' could be interpreted in many different and occasionally, very loose ways. But even at the height of it's craziness, Mafia Land's inhabitants hadn't met anyone, who could match it and then mete out their own._

 _And then, there was this assassin._

 _Seemingly so ordinary he was extremely easy to miss and be put into a background like a character that would, sooner or later, be a fish food because he was just so weak._

 _Some idiotic, drunk fools thought it would be an awesome idea to teach the weakling manners because one of them - surprise, surprise, failed to make an impression on some minor Sky lady, an unintentional courtesy of the man in question._

 _(Not that the drunkard in question had to try hard to make a fool of himself. It had been pure dumb chance of misfortune waiting to happen.)_

 _When they tried to recount the happenings later on, there were only three facts._

 _The assassin had broken their bones effortlessly. Which meant he was a power monster in his own league._

 _Nobody had seen him move. Yeah, he was a lightning fast little bastard. No joke._

 _And… he was…who again? Nobody fucking **knew**. No name to follow him back. Nothing. He was Just. That. Damn. **Forgettable.** _

_Even with all the cameras around. From all possible angles. It was as if the idiots had been punched by some kind of a ghost or something, and if there hadn't been eyewitnesses, the videos alone would've been a very good material for supposed ghost stories._

 _It drove the both the security and intelligence of the island_ bonkers.

 _Suffice to say, the bounty - both dead and alive on the Ghost reached truly stupendous amounts of money. That kind of an assassin, who was literally invisible even in the middle of a crowd that looked directly at him, was invaluable._

* * *

 _When one Kuzuki Soichiro boarded the boat back to the mainland, he didn't even realize just what kind of chaos he had made with his brief appearance in the holiest of criminal lands._

 _His training had been bountiful and as luck would have it, the information gained from his short excursion would surely help Harry and his friends to advance their own abilities with that strange fire._


	23. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters or a song used herein. If I would, then you can betcha the story would involve Xanxus in all of his bratty glory from the very beginning.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I owe all of you an apology for not updating last week. My keyboard failed on me big time. You can all thank a bunch of friendly geeks who took to heart my heart-wrenching need for a new one and recommended me my current love sla - ahem, partner. _/Cough./_ Okay, will try - emphasis on try, to keep up the regular schedule, but lease bear with me if sometimes updates will be later than foretold.

 ** _Warnings: _**_**AU**_ on multiple scales, different POV's, Einzbern shenanigans and someone is suffering as always. Not beta-read.

* * *

 _Anywhere you go, anyone you meet,  
Remember that your eyes can be your enemies,  
I said, hell is so close and heaven's out of reach  
But I ain't giving up quite yet,  
I've got too much to lose_

(' _Sweet And Low'_ , by Augustana)

* * *

The first encounter of the infamous patriarch of Einzberns went… Well.

Harry was not exactly happy with the unintentionally discovery of an additional baggage, and it was only by a sheer dumb luck that the servant in question didn't enter Harry's room to announce the dreaded meeting.

But the green-eyed wizard was nothing if not resourceful, so he quickly tossed the troublesome brat his invisibility cloak with the hissed out instructions to put it on, and under no circumstances was he to take it off except in Harry's presence.

Harry didn't know if the cloak would work for someone like Xanxus, who was not even a wizard, but it seemed that his absurd luck stepped in again, and instead of Xanxus' mulish form, where he sat, there was nothing. If Harry hadn't known that Xanxus was here, he would've thought the entire thing as an hallucination and left it at that.

He just prayed that the brat wouldn't do something exceptionally stupid to attract the attention of those homunculus people on his head.

(He really, really didn't need to have another person with Potter luck traipsing around. Him alone was enough, two of them would've been an overkill.)

* * *

Kiritsugu kept the implacable mask of Magus Killer on his face, along with shutting down unnecessary emotions. The less he gave away to the ancient Homunculus, the less leverage they would have over him and by proxy, Harry.

He was still unhappy with his friend's decision to accompany him into the devil's nest that was Einzbern's base of operations, but on the other side, his heart couldn't help but he warm and give a little jolt every time when he thought that Harry choose to go with him. Not with that shitty priest, but him, Kiritsugu. Even knowing that the entire operation could be a death sentence if he were discovered. Their pretense, to be a working pair, was flimsy at best, and even if he didn't seem so, Kiritsugu was quite nervous that someone would speak up a wrong word, notice things that didn't quite mesh well with their image and… well, hello, catastrophe. And that's not even mentioning that strange fire.

(Kirei was quite smug that he had made some kind of a breakthrough, the bastard. Kiritsugu was still wondering what exactly could he do with… whatever he had now. But he was too stubborn to ask the priest. No. Nope. Not in a million years. Kiritsugu swore he would figure it out by himself, even if it _killed_ him in process.)

The dining room in which he was prompted to wait for the master of the castle was appropriately big and somber, enough to intimidate lesser mortals who were lucky - or unlucky – to attract the attention of one Jubstacheit Einzbern for whatever reason at the time. Colors of blood red and pristine white intertwined with stark black and some pale caramel into a tasteful room with richly polished mahogany desk and chairs with blood red cushions. Despite its elegance, Kiritsugu felt as if that room was more of an executioner's podium than anything else, which made him doubly wary of the setup. Natalia always said if a thing looked too good to be true, then it probably was.

 _'Kerry. If you remember one thing, then remember this. Your eyes can be your greatest enemies. Trust no one without looking into them, but trust your eyes even less. Nothing is ever as it seems to be_. _Trust your instincts first and your eyes second._ '

Blank black eyes blinked slowly as her voice echoed in his mind.

 _'Trust your instincts first.'_

That was one of the reasons Kiritsugu, even as young as he was, was feared worldwide for both his skills and survivals in situations and against beings many times more powerful than him.

And his instincts right now said that whatever it was old man Jubstacheit wanted him for, didn't bode well for _anyone_ involved.

But when did it _ever?_

His musings were interrupted by the door opening which caused his eyes to swivel in its direction. Kiritsugu's eyebrows rose when a visibly frazzled Harry came in. To anyone else, the green-eyed teen would've looked like an epitome of calm and collected. However, Kiritsugu knew his friend and the stiffness in his jaw, along with his furrowed eyebrows didn't denote the calm, but rather a held-back irritation and anger at… _something._

Harry was clad in soft gray jumper with black jeans trousers and grey and black trainers. The only thing that detracted from his casually professional image was his still unmanageable mess of hair and slightly skewed eyeglasses perched on his nose.

His friend shook his head at his inquisitive look, mouthing a silent _'later'._ Kiritsugu blinked, confused, but nodded back anyway.

Something had to happen, and a small part of his brain bristled with protectiveness and annoyance. But whatever it was, it seemed that Harry wasn't overly concerned about it, so it shouldn't be that bad… hopefully.

Kiritsugu paused.

Wait. That was _Harry_ he was thinking about. So of _course_ what shouldn't be _that_ bad was probably even _worse._

What remained to be seen, where on the Harry-scale this ' _not-bad'_ occurrence fell and just how much of a shitstorm would they have to weather through to solve it.

The door opened again, and a form, clad in white silently stepped into the room.

* * *

Sharp eyes the color of graphite, yet harder than diamond observed his newest tools in his pursuit of the Grail.

Emiya Kiritsugu. The young man in question was lauded and feared as a Magus Killer because of his innate Origin and pragmatic outlook when dealing with his opponents. True, Emiya didn't adhere to the classis image of an Magus, and his methods were scorned and ridiculed, but when one was faced with him as his enemy, there was nothing to laugh about. Being a Magus meant walking hand in hand with Death… yet there was still a slim chance that the one walking with Death would escape it's grasp. With Magus Killer in equation, that kind of probability automatically became null and void… even if at expense of the innocent bystanders.

Kiritsugu had made a majestic debut when he gunned down the jumbo jet and it's passengers - the notorious demonic bee user, Borzak had been his target.

Casualties included young man's mentor, and renowned assassin herself, one Natalia Kaminski. One would think Emiya would've hesitated to pull the trigger, if only to save the only person that cared him after the tragedy that had been Alimango Island.

Nobody knew if Borzak counted on that fact or not, but the outcome had been the same. Emiya had heartlessly doomed the plane to fiery death. This had been but the beginning of his career, which was both impressive in the scope of his targets and cruel because of mass casualties Kiritsugu had left in his wake.

 _One for ten._

 _Ten for hundred._

 _Hundred for thousand._

Kiritsugu didn't abide failures.

Jubstacheit von Einzbern abided them even less. After the shame that had been the Third Grail War, he had thought long and hard. H e had done everything in his power to turn the tides in his favor.

It hadn't worked. Not then.

But there was a new Grail War on the horizon…and new outlook was needed. A change. If the old didn't work, then he would try with something new, something unconventional… something that guaranteed his house the long-awaited for victory.

He looked at the messy-haired man. Emiya was young - younger than he had expected him to be, not yet a man but closing to this stage of human development. Many would have mistaken him for an ordinary teen - many _had_ , and paid the ultimate price for their foolishness.

Jubstacheit wasn't a fool. This young man – because Emiya was a man, no matter his age – had the eyes of a killer. Uncompromising, cold and uncaring for anything but final victory.

His assistant was - Jubstacheit mentally raised his eyebrow. In comparison with Kiritsugu, his assistant was… _Soft_. Worryingly so, considering that Jubstacheit could read his facial expressions as easily as one could a book. Wariness, irritation, but surprisingly no fear. The last one made him blink. Stronger mages found themselves a blubbering mess in front of him when he just gazed at them, yet this youth looked at him like some kind of a dumb dog, uncomprehending of his power.

Jubstacheit didn't know whether that irritated or displeased him. But considering this green-eyed teen worked with Kiritsugu, perhaps he had some merits the Einzbern patriarch couldn't see at first glance.

"Good evening, Lord Einzbern." He gave a nod to Emiya, his gaze still on that strange-eyed youth. He was sure that this strange kind of green color wasn't natural. Just what kind of ritual had the boy done, and more importantly, what powers had derived from it?

He turned his attention back to Emiya. His curiosity aside, there were more important matters to tend to.

* * *

"Good evening, Emiya. I trust the castle accommodations are to your liking?" The old man addressed Kiritsugu, causing Harry to frown when he was so casually dismissed after being carefully appraised as if he were some kind of a jewel.

The old man was unlike Dumbledore. While the old wizard played the part of a doddering old, but powerful wizard to a T, and not afraid to either to use his power if occasion demanded for it. Harry was not sure just what the old man power was, but if Kiritsugu, who was known as Magus Killer and thus proverbial boogeyman of Magi everywhere was respectful to this man, then this Einzbern patriarch was undoubtedly someone to take care to not offend.

"They are, thank you for your inquiry." Kiritsugu was short and to the point.

An uncomfortable silence sneaked between the trio. Nobody was willing to speak.

Finally, Jubstacheit interrupted the uneasy status quo. "You already know why I called you here." He addressed Kiritsugu once again, his face unreadable, but eyes sharper than a diamond's edge. Harry wanted to shrink back, but stubbornly kept his place. This wasn't Dumbledore. This wasn't Voldemort. This was…the ex-wizard swallowed.

This was something else. _He_ was something else.

"To win the Grail War." Kiritsugu replied, his own eyes guarded. "Why us?" Something akin to respect passed those gray eyes, before the old man nodded to himself. "Don't make yourself more important than you are!" He snapped out, his old voice still strong and reverberating through the room without any difficulty. Harry barely resisted the flinch at the rebuke.

"Why us?" Kiritsugu must have had a death wish, what with him repeating the question. "You could've called for anyone. Einzbern has ties in heaven and hell. I am aware that I have a long way to go to reach the summit. Why choose to put the decision in those hands?"

The old man chuckled. The chuckle was dry and raspy, almost sinister sounding in its shortness for the man who laughed at Kiritsugu wasn't amused by the least.

"Because, you young fool, you are the surest bet." He replied. "I've heard of your record. You never fail, no matter how difficult the mission." Harry bristled at Jubstacheit's belittlement of Kiritsugu, but held back. This was Kiritsugu's fight, he had to remind himself. He was here to help, not hinder him. But the old patriarch already continued. "The Einzberns have pursued the Grail since the very beginning of the family. It was our hope, and their salvation when Grand Mistress Justeaze decided to run the project of Holy Grail War with the other two families. But we, Einzbern as a whole, failed, again and again, despite throwing in the wars our best people, resources and insurmotable amounts of wealth. What we tried hadn't worked." He paused, his face wrinkling into a disapproving frown. " _I_ failed." He announced, his voice strong and condemning as he looked somewhere far away, losing himself in memories of the disaster he had participated in.

Gray eyes flashed when he looked at the motionless Magus. "I _failed_." He repeated. "And that is **_unacceptable_**." His voice wasn't quite a thunder, but in Harry's ears it definitely seemed to be.

"But this time. This Grail War. The Einzbern will prevail. And if the tactics up until now hadn't succeeded…" Jubstacheit trailed off, his until now empty eyes flashing with determination.

"Then it's time to take a new approach. _You_." He briefly pointed at Kiritsugu with his hand, and Harry felt the chills, as if the Death itself had handpicked Kiritsugu to perish next. "You are young. Unconventional. Your methods are shameless and despicable, but they _work."_

He paused, letting the two young men in front of them absorb his words. Then, he spoke out again, shattering the fragile silence. "I want you exactly because of that. Nobody would have expected Einzberns to change our way of thinking - of fighting - so very completely. To be ruthless enough to sacrifice everything and anything for our victory. What I want to know, Emiya, is…

… Are you willing to do whatever it takes in this Grail War for Einzberns to win?"

* * *

Kiritsugu stilled. This was big. Too big for him. He was just a semi-known assassin, for Akasha's sake! An assassin with hundred percent hit rate, but still - !

"What is in for me?" The words escaped his lips even before he knew what he was saying.

Jubstacheit's bark of amusement sounded like rattling casket, full of dried out human bones.

And Kiritsugu himself couldn't help but think he was about to make a pact with a devil.

* * *

Harry stared at the form, encased within the crystal capsule.

It was floating in the sickly greenish-yellow liquid, it's long hair calmly weaving around tiny face.

When they had been told about this… project, he had expected to see an adult, or at least a teen.

But no. This… _being_ in front of him was small - even tinier than Xanxus, and that's saying something. It - no, she, was so small and fragile looking - _too_ fragile for the task that laid ahead of her.

He felt his cheeks blaze with both mortification and anger - it _wasn't_ okay to stare as someone's bits, and it felt especially _wrong_ when that someone was unconscious. It didn't matter that she-or it - _she,_ damn it, was a human-or in this case, man-made form, that it was more like of an extremely advanced AI what with its brain being implanted with all of the Einzbern's knowledge about their specific branch of magic in order to be the most efficient lamb led to the slaughter.

All in the name of the greater good.

Harry had to swallow down the bile that was trying to rise up from his stomach. He snuck a glance to Kiritsugu, but the Magus Killer's face was about as cold and expressive as stones underneath their feet. Calm, collected, those dark eyes hauntingly empty of any feelings. The green-eyed wizard suppressed a shiver of unease. This version of Kiritsugu was alarmingly close to the one he had met in that church, who wouldn't have hesitated to kill him, disregarding the fact that the church place was sacrosanct.

Kiritsugu had warned him. But up until now, aside that mess with Freccia, Harry didn't have any chance to see Kiritsugu as Magus Killer. Kiritsugu wasn't the sort of person that would sacrifice everything for victory.

Except, of course, he was. Harry had seen that in his eyes, in the tilt of his head. It made something in his bones go ice cold with revelation that apparently he didn't know his friend like had thought he did. One was hearing and accepting that facet of Kiritsugu's personality, but it was completely another thing to see it in person - cold, merciless, calculating.

Dryly swallowing, Harry blinked and refocused back on the naked form floating in the crystal pod.

It was a young girl - younger than Xanxus, her pale skin a shade or two darker than her hair. This girl - no. This _machine_ \- because for all of her looking like an organic little girl, this was a machine first and foremost - was to be the embodiment of Holy Grail in the next Grail war.

But that didn't help Harry from feeling any less sick than he had been when he first heard about that insane plan of Einzbern's patriarch.

"This is my greatest accomplishment." Jubstacheit's voice echoed in the room, as the man stepped closer to the pod himself, dark grey eyes sweeping over the encased form fleetingly. It was a strange sight - an old man, clad in white, with his pale skin and white shoulder length hair, along with white beard - unlike Dumbledore, Jubstacheit wore his own beard in a practical cut that reminded Harry of an ice waterfall, with how white and rigid the strands in question were. Both of the men were powerful and manipulative - but where Dumbledore obscured his power and manipulations via his grandfatherly image, Jubstacheit Acht von Einzbern didn't bother with any such pretense. The old man turned his head, his cold gaze sweeping over the two youths he had chosen to help him elevate Einzberns to their former glory, the dim light from the liquid making the stern lines in his face seem like mini canyons.

Harry gave a small, absentminded nod. His insides were still warring between accepting this - _being_ \- in the crystal pod - as a person or labeling it simply as a very advanced machine.

"I am sure it's your very best." He agreed politely while quickly stepping on Kiritsugu's foot when his friend opened his mouth, undoubtedly to tell something very disparaging about the abilities of this. _Thing._ Harry may have seen Kiritsugu's Magus Killer persona in a full force this time, but that didn't mean he couldn't still read his friend, if only a little.

And Kiritsugu was on a verge of spitting out just how _useful_ did Jubstacheit really think his little project was. Because _little girl,_ really? With all of his intellect, Jubstacheit couldn't do it anything _better_ than a _little girl?_ He would've reamed Jubstacheit a new one, the old man being the de-facto leader of Einzberns of not. Harry, however, stopped him from doing so with a firm and semi-subtle stomp on his left foot.

Not that it hurt much, considering it was more of a warning than a true intention to cause him pain, but it derailed his attention from this… sub-human form back to Harry. Kiritsugu refrained from sighing aloud.

Harry was a complete bleeding heart. Even if his friend thought he was good with concealing his emotions, to Kiritsugu, his face may as well be an open book. And there was also this churning feeling of this… _warmth_ curling around discontentedly, making him bristle with discomfited annoyance, which in turn feed his own unease quite spectacularly.

His hand itched to draw out his Contender and just shot the old man to kingdom come, the consequences be damned. But the other part of him - the one Natalia had conditioned through countless missions and training drills, the one that was born on Alimango, the one that made him took up the gun against his own father in order to protect the inhabitants of the island from his insanity - the one that felt hollow and broken until he met Harry - made him stay his hand.

Destruction was easy.

Protection - especially now, when he was protecting something precious to him - was _hard._

 _(Because it broke a protector just as surely as the sun rose, no matter whether the protection was done successfully or not, it took something out of protector, a metaphorical pound of flesh every time he was entrusted with his charge.)_

Kiritsugu breathed in the cold, crisp, sterilized air of the chamber. He held his breath a little bit longer as he harshly reigned his impulse to protect, get out, save, back , slapping another steel cage over the rampaging beast in his chest.

He exhaled breath carefully, as if breathing out could detonate the fragile peace that reigned between the three of them.

His Origin may be damning him, but he would be damned to the deepest pits of _hell_ if he allowed Harry to come to any kind of harm via his own thoughtless actions.

Emiya Kiritsugu may have been a Magus Killer, but he was a friend first.

* * *

Xanxus was _bored._ There was only that many times he could dismantle and reassemble one of Kiritsugu's spare guns. There was practically nothing to do in Harry's room - it was as bad as it could get, with bare amenities provided. Heck, there was no television, or, heavens forbid, even radio, so that he could have entertained himself with!

Bored, bored, bored, _booored._ What to do, what to do…

Xanxus pouted underneath the cloak as he crossed his arms when he glared at the heap of steel parts that was yet-again - reassembled into a gun.

Before Harry had hurried off, he had dumped on Xanxus his invisibility cloak and told him to stay put. And no, he was not allowed to get the cloak off his person!

Xanxus huffed as he wrinkled his nose.

Even if it was interesting to see a maid to come into the room and fold Harry's clothes that Xanxus had used as his temporary bed when he had been hiding in the suitcase. It had been a pure dumb luck that Xanxus had scrambled onto the edge of a bed, far away from the girl as to not be detected.

To his surprise, the maid didn't even twitch, but continued to make an order out of the mess that was Harry's clothes.

An hour later, and Xanxus fidgeting slightly, because he wanted to go to the loo, the maid was finally done, and with a last glance on the freshly folded clothes, she turned her back and exited the room.

Xanxus waited for a moment or two - just in case - before sliding off the bed and hightailing to the bathroom to relieve himself.

After doing his business - sweet, sweet _relief_ \- Xanxus was thus besieged with his greatest enemy to date once again.

Boredom!

Xanxus may have seen many things too gruesome for even adults to stomach, but he was still a little boy.

Thus it would be safe to say that Xanxus was about to do something stupid enough to warrant him a painfully red hot behind once again. Of course, Xanxus debated with himself whether it was worth it or not to break his word - on one side, he had promised Harry he would stay put, but on the other, he was just so bored, and surely, Harry would understand his dilemma, wouldn't he?

But Harry had explicitly told him to stay put…Xanxus' face took a downward cast, before a proverbial light bulb ignited itself in his head.

Sure, Harry had said to stay put… but he didn't specify that he had to stay put in _this_ room, did he? Reddish brown eyes brightened,as Xanxus' face was lit by his customary devil-may-care grin.

Besides, it would be a shame not to test the cloak with a… broader range of subjects.

In this moment, if one could've seen him, Xanxus would've sported both proverbial devil's horns and a little halo askew across them. Luckily for him, and unfortunately for his happily oblivious caretaker, nobody had been witness to the happening.

Gleefully snickering to himself, Xanxus quickly gathered the cloak and draped it over himself, making sure that he was completely covered. It wouldn't do to be accidentally discovered, would it?

(In that moment, Harry felt chill streak down his spine, but he didn't know why. Judging by the wide-eyed look he exchanged with Kiritsugu, his friend too was a subject to the unexplainable phenomena before both of them dismissed it as a result of their host's ramblings about his grand plans)

* * *

Finally. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when that old dictator in the guise of Einzbern patriarch finally let them go.

With a single look between them, both of them agreed to make it to Harry's room before they would discuss anything.

The trek back passed in silence. The corridor was long and dark, illuminated by a lone light here and there, even if there weren't any need to it, considering that it was still bright outside. Summer breeze wafted through the space from somewhere, carrying in the scent of nearby woods and decaying foliage as their footsteps echoed through the space.

The maid that served as their guide bowed to them and left them to their own devices. Exchanging a look once again, Harry pressed the handle and entered his assigned room, before letting Kiritsugu follow him behind.

As soon as Kiritsugu entered, Harry closed the door, locking it for additional measure.

* * *

Dark eyes blinked with confusion as Harry hurriedly turned around and rummaged through the belongings in his suitcase, only to get out a small, unassuming cube. Closing his eyes and concentrating, Harry squeezed the cube, making the strange glyphs on it glow with pale blue light which gradually brightened into bright yellow before winking out of existence, prompting the cube to hum for a moment and Kiritsugu felt something being built around them, like some kind of a tent.

He quickly forgot the sensation when Harry turned to him, usually bright green eyes darkened with worry.

"Harry?" The assassin asked, concerned. "What - "

The wizard shook his head. "Just putting up temporary wards so we can't be overheard." Harry quickly informed him, before his eyebrows scrunched even more. "Kiritsugu, we have a problem."

Grimly, Kiritsugu nodded. "Yes. That thing with this thing intended to become Grail - "

But Harry already shook his head. "No, Kiritsugu. Well, yes, _that_ too, but - " He interrupted himself, looking at the bed, and Kiritsugu felt the heat rising in his cheeks when his eyes widened with anticipation. Surely Harry -

"Kiritsugu. We have _Xanxus_."

For a moment, Kiritsugu's brain failed to comprehend meaning of a sentence that Harry had just spoke to him.

 _'We have **Xanxus**.'_

"What do you - " He interrupted himself in the middle of the question as his brain overclocked and reached the improbable, but the only believable conclusion. "Xanxus is _here!?"_ He hissed out, his eyes now wide with outrage.

Oh, when he got his hands on that little **_brat_** , his behind won't be red or blue, it would be -

Harry glared at him for a moment, but seeing something in his face - Kiritsugu didn't know exactly what, but whatever it was, it relaxed him some, and his eyes softened to a concerned, if still a little bit angry gaze.

"He managed to hide himself into my suitcase." He informed Kiritsugu, his words succinct, if tinted with a bit of exasperated amusement. Rubbing his face, Kiritsugu groaned.

"Of all the stupid ideas - and the brat is here? _Now?_ How in the seven _hells_ did he even manage to get through the safety checks?" He asked, incredulous.

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But he somehow did it." He glanced back on the bed, frowning. "Xanxus?" He called out softly.

Nobody answered.

Harry frowned harder. "Xanxus, this is not funny anymore, come on out - " He headed to the bed, and to Kiritsugu's confusion, he began to, tap the covers? With every tap done, Harry's expression became tighter and more thunderous.

" _Xanxus!_ Come out, or I swear to _Merlin,_ I will allow Kirei to make you into mincemeat!"

Kiritsugu had to hold back a whistle at that threat. Harry was usually very laid back with Xanxus, and even if he allowed the three assassins a full reign with Xanxus' education, threatening the brat with the full force of Kirei's _tender_ mercies was a little bit too cruel even for Kiritsugu, who was usually all for throwing the bratty annoyance under the proverbial bus.

"He isn't here." Harry glared at him at that quip. "No _duh,_ genius." He snapped back. Kiritsugu didn't mind his sharp words, because funny situation aside, it was _not_ funny when the brat who had recently woke the Flames was traipsing in the place that was practically teeming with people who could - and would quarter him if only to discover the origin of those things.

"I covered him with my invisibility cloak." Harry continued, his eyebrow twitching with irritation.

Kiritsugu blinked. Invisibility cloak. _Of course._ So _that_ was why Harry was tapping the bed. "How good is that invisibility cloak of yours?" He asked, prompting Harry to stop and blink.

"Good enough not to be detected by anyone even if they are just a step away from you." He promptly answered, before scowling again. "But it doesn't give you any powers of intangibility, and if you make any sort of noise - "He made a jerking motion with his hand - " - well, you could be found out."

Kiritsugu groaned as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Are you telling me that the brat has a cloak equivalent of an _useful_ _Time Alter - Stagnate_ and is _freely_ running around the castle with it?"

 _Time Alter - Stagnate._ Kiritsugu's most useless ability. If _Time Alter - Accel_ accelerated his speed to inhuman proportions, which was useful when getting out of the sticky situations, then _Time Alter - Stagnate_ was the opposite of it. Kiritsugu, as practical as he was, didn't only experiment with speeding up his body, but also with how to slow it down, if only for information sake. Better to have some knowledge of the ability than to find out the drawbacks only when one was in shit deep enough to warrant the use of that particular ability. _Time Alter - Stagnate_ could be good enough as some kind of a camouflage - only, the drawback was that the user, or in this case, Kiritsugu, had to stay stock-still, and when he released the ability in question, the pain was nothing to sneeze at.

But Harry's invisibility cloak effectively negated the need to be stationary, hid its user from anyone and anything - considering there hadn't been any alarm klaxons about intruder creeping about the castle, they could be reasonably certain that the cloak was _leagues_ above any security system old Jubstacheit had cooked up.

The only drawback? The self-same cloak was currently in the hands of mischievous and unpredictable six year old who was prone to fits of anger and who most likely didn't think that being in the middle of the enemy's territory merited anything more than a firm swat upon his behind if caught.

"I am not _telling_ you." Harry replied flatly as he felt headache beginning to churn in the back of his head. "I am _stating_ a fact."

Kiritsugu arched his eyebrows, unimpressed. He crossed the hands on his chest as he stared the equally miffed green-eyed wizard down.

"And _that_ makes it better, _how?"_

* * *

Xanxus didn't have _any_ idea just what kind of trouble his unplanned expedition had caused to his guardians.

Instead, he was happily sneaking around the castle, curiously following whichever person took his interest. There was a maid with an interesting hairdo, and occasionally, there was a person that was too stuck up to be anything else than a noble in some sense. Xanxus had a good time silently making fun of their wardrobe - because seriously? _Robes?_ Just how did they think to survive even the basic knife assault in those things? At the rate things were going, the only combat-ready people in this mansion would be maids, what with their knee-length skirts!

Surprisingly enough, nobody had sensed Xanxus following behind them. Of course, there had been some close calls, especially in kitchens - Xanxus had snatched some honey buns and he had dodged the cloak being stepped on by a millimeter - curse his tiny form, which made the cloak drag a little behind him, inasmuch the rest of the fabric wasn't bunched around his upper body in a futile effort to keep it away from floor and any unintentional feet stepping herein.

Xanxus didn't exactly understand those people - they spoke something called German, the language Harry had been cramming his head with back when they had been in Italy, but he was by no means stupid kid. Their expressions when they talked about his _turista_ and that bastard of an _assassino,_ Kiritsugu didn't bode anything well for those two.

The building in which he had found himself - if Xanxus had been technically correct, had been brought into - was cold, stark, and stone-y. Like being built of stones. Even if the cool air within was a relief from the heat he had to endure outside, there had to be _limits_ to the cold somewhere! Clenching his teeth and telling himself to suck it the fuck up, Xanxus continued his little trek through the building.

Cold. Ostentatious at times, yes, grand, undoubtedly, but would it fucking _kill_ them to have at least warm floor, if nothing else? Quietly grumbling to himself, Xanxus continued to amble the corridors and staircases, not caring anymore if anyone heard him or not. Served them well if they heard his curses and thought him to be a vengeful spirit.

In his wandering around he almost didn't notice time passing, until a gleam off one edge of the roof gleamed into his eyes, startling him into almost cursing aloud at the sudden appearance of the light in question.

Then, and only then, Xanxus found out that it was already a late evening and he was in a deep, deep shit if he didn't return at once.

Turning around, reddish brown eyes under the hood widened to an almost impossible size when he found out that he was well and truly lost.

 _"Santa Madre!"_ He exclaimed, horrified, not even caring that anyone could hear him. He looked around - the same surroundings, but even colder than before and was that a scent of a hospital-grade disinfectant in the air he scented?

Where the fuck was he _now!?_

* * *

The strange _**warmth**_ was closing in. After hours upon hours of teasingly dancing just out of reach, the **_warmth_** finally came!

The other two ** _warmths_** were somewhere else, fluctuating unevenly - anxiously, perhaps? But that didn't matter. This special little warmth was here. Both **_[fluffy]_** and **_[biting]_** like some kind of a **_[puppy]_** \- a very **_[confused] [puppy],_** at that.

The new words were slotting itself in its mind, like pieces of a puzzle. Here, having meaning but meaningless all the same.

How could they have a ** _[meaning]_** if there wasn't any **_[experience]_** to back them up?

But back to the **_warmth._**

It wanted. It ** _needed._**

It… _beckoned._

It was _here._ It wanted that warmth in here with it. Maybe then it would be **_warm_** enough.

And it **_reached_** out, _stretched_ itself, because -

 ** _[Warmth.]_**

It _wanted_ that warmth. No, it needed it, **_craved_** it, even.

 ** _NOW!_**

There was a **_[yelp]_** and a _[tumble]_ and **_[curse]_** when the **_[warmth]_** crashed closer -

It startled, almost enough to release a hold/hook on that ** _[warmth]._**

That warmth had a sound, had a body and it was….

Small?

Smaller than the ** _[Ice] [Cold],_** smaller than this **_[Distant] [Warmth]_** , and smaller than this **_[Cold] [Warmth]._**

 _Tiny?_

Yes, _tiny._ Just the right one for it.

That tiny, ** _[wild] [warmth]_** stopped. Hesitated.

A sense of wild loss.

 ** _[panic?]_**

No! This warmth - it couldn't leave it alone! It was so _cold_ and so _alone_ for so very, very _long!_

It just _couldn't!_

Another yelp and curse, this time closer.

The warmth flared.

It would've basked in it, but this warmth wasn't good. Wasn't happy. It was [hurtful]. It shrank back a little. It's throat [hummed] in supplication.

 _Don't be **[hurtful!]** Please, don't! _

_Not wanting to **[hurt]!**_

Its eyes snapped open, wide red staring through the crystal glass into equally red ones, one pair blank and other mixed with surprise and anger.

Small hands flailed in the yellowish-green liquid, as if trying to grasp something, until the right one slid against something _**[flat]**_ and **_[firm]_** and remaining here, ** _[fingers]_ ** spread like fragile little claws, a voiceless scream for help.

Slowly, hesitantly, equally as small hand, if a little bit bigger pressed down on the **_[flat]_** and **_[firm]_** from the other side.

The wide red eyes behind the glass slid into half-mast and the doll smiled in contentment, not that it - **_she_** \- knew what it was.

Connection was complete.

* * *

"I vote we stuff the kitty brat into a card box and send him straight to Kirei." Kiritsugu was merciless in his verdict as he paced on the floor of Harry's room.

Harry groaned. "Kiritsugu, this is completely unreasonable. Not to mention _unethical."_ He rebuked the Magus Killer, but to no avail. Even if Xanxus was Trouble Magnet to the extreme, that still didn't warrant sending him back packaged like some kind of truffle just because - !

"If he managed to survive in a suitcase without any air holes, I imagine surviving the trip in a good sturdy cardboard box with couple of air holes will be a piece of cake for him!" Kiritsugu snapped back.

Harry stifled the urge to bash his head against the wall. He agreed with Kiritsugu that Xanxus' little adventure was not only pushing, but outright _kicking_ the envelope, but seriously, did Kiritsugu really have to treat the boy for one foolish mistake like...

"And if they check the box, what then?" He pointed out reasonably. "We could be fined with child abuse and child endangerment, you know?"

Kiritsugu stubbornly shook his head. "Not if he uses the mojo that enabled him to pass the check into Germany." He pointed out grumpily. "We could even stick on that stickler for fast delivery. So, one or two nights of discomfort and then the brat would be safely back in Vatican and we could continue the mission without hindrances."

Harry opened his mouth to retort something, when the door opened, carrying in a strange scent.

And then closed, all on their lonesome, but the scent remained, even stronger than before..

Both Harry and Kiritsugu glared. Doors didn't open and close on their own, and considering the wards Harry had thrown up, only someone keyed in could get through.

And both Harry and Kiritsugu knew _exactly_ who could it have been.

Harry twitched. He stood up from the bed and strode forward, exactly where that strange scent had been emitting from.

" _Xanxus._ You finally came." His voice was calm, calmer than he intended it to be.

Grasping the unusually slinky material - something between water and thick silk in his hand, he quickly yanked it off.

"How _nice_ of you to finally joining us."

Or at least that was what he intended to say. Instead, he could come only to "How _ni - !"_ The rest of his rebuke ended in a startled squeak when he saw what his errant protégé/son carried in his arms.

Before the cloak fell down, strangely trembling in his hand and there was Xanxus, wet as a drowned rat, and smelling even worse if that was even possible, clutching to him an unconscious **_[thing]_** Harry and Kiritsugu had been introduced to just four hours before.

Stubborn, completely red eyes blazed into his own green ones as Xanxus defiantly raised his chin while tucking the _(still!)_ naked bundle closed to himself, **_[it]_** snuggling against him like some kind of a newborn kitten.

And then, he spoke the Words of Doom.

"She is my little sister. Fucking deal with it."

A pause. Kiritsugu placed a hand on Harry's shock-stiffened shoulder. His voice, when he spoke, was curiously flat.

"Are you still sure that we can't stuff them into a nice little cardboard box and post them off to Italy to be Kirei's problem?"

Harry opened his mouth. And closed it again. His brain had to shut down and restart a couple of times before he was capable of cognizant thought -and speak - again.

"You know, "He began faintly. "I think that your suggestion suddenly makes a whole lot of sense."

* * *

 ** _Scribble_**

 _The bloodthirsty black owl had been gifted to them, much to the black owl's delight and Hedwig's horror. Now they were posed with the problem of naming it._

 _After many trials and tribulations - i.e. Hedwig trying (and succeeding) to sabotage the process, the black owl finally had a name._

 _{But dear little sister, why would you be so cruel as to deny me my Name?} Soulful golden eyes bore into the same, stone-cold ones. The black owl ruffled it's feathers elegantly - and was there a glint of steel among the feathers?_

 _Hedwig squinted_.{ _Because_ , you annoying fluff for brain, in this family there is room for only one owl. And in case if it escaped your notice, this owl is **me**.} _She grumbled out, absentmindedly whacking Kiritsugu/Fluffy Smoky One on his head when he once again tried to suggest a name for the feathery idiot that was her elder brother. Mean looking he may be, but her elder brother didn't make an iota of sense, not even since they were tiny owlets. While she was training to be the best owl she could be, he imagined himself to be some kind of a vampire, got bad friends - imagine, hanging out with_ **bats** _\- literally, in his case! - and trying - and thank Athena, failing - to get his beak sharpened into fangs. Really, who had **ever** seen an owl having a pair of **fangs** instead of a nice, respectable, sharp beak? Truly, Hedwig didn't understand him. Maybe it was because his egg had fallen from their nest too many times?_

 _"He is a bloodthirsty little beast." She absentmindedly listened to the Fluffy Smoky One, nodding slightly in assent. Truly, her brother was a complete glutton for blood. So much that he -_

 _"So he will be called Alucard."_

 _Hedwig blinked out of her memories, horrifying that they were. Then, Harry-chick's chick nodded. And then Snakey nodded. She tilted her head. Why were they agreeing again?_

 _Her golden eyes widened with horror when the now-named Alucard made for an ungentlemanly - or un-owl-y whoop of delight, so different from his usual facade of disdain and bloodthirst._

{Yay! I got a _name_ , I got a _na-me!_ Suck it up, Heddy!} _He warbled out happily, giving her an owl-version raspberry as he wiggled his body quite indecently on the head of Harry's chick, making Harry's chick yelp with indignation at having to bear the indignity that was the now-named Alucard's victory dance._

{I'm not a Heddy - Wha - You got a **NAME!?** } _She screeched out in horror, her golden eyes bulged out in horrified panic._

 _'Dear Athena, anything but **that** , please!' _

_But the magics were already in works, firmly entrenching his new Name to her brother and thus newly-named Alucard was the full member of their little family._

{You keep what you kill - er, Name, so. Game. Set. Match. Eat your heart out, Hedwig.} _Alucard preened at her smugly._

 _Defeated, Hedwig fluffed out her feathers irritably, as he proceeded to click a beak, offended at the outcome of this - this_ **travesty.** _Yes, travesty was a right choice of the word for the naming disaster that had just occurred._

 _Her Harry-chick seemed equally as unimpressed, as he addressed the Fluffy Smoky One._

 _"You_ **do** _know that Alucard is just Dracula spelled backwards?"_

 _"So? It still fits the fucker." Harry-chick's chick spoke out, making her Harry-chick berate him for his language._

 _Hedwig closed her eyes, resigned to live out her life with her idiotic brother and his antics._ {At least my name came from a saint. Yours is just as unimaginative as you are,} _she grumbled to herself sullenly._

 _Didn't help that she had to suffer his ecstatic warbling later on the night because she had misfortune of being present when Xanxus demanded to watch an original Dracula movie._

 _Alucard was an insufferable little_ prick _for_ days _afterward._


	24. Chapter 24

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own this song and these charachters. I am merely kidnapping them for our entertainment.

 ** _Shout Out:_** I am so tired it's not even funny. The workload has amped up, so the next chapter will be released Thursday or Friday next week, if even. This chapter, both of the unsung heroes whom Harry had left behind got their chance to shine. And because I recently watched one interesting anime, along with hefty reading of Chinese novels... yup. Influences ahoy.

 ** _Warnings:_** ** _AU_** on multiple scales, KHR coming into the play along with Hedwig's majestic appearance.

* * *

 _It's the beginning of the end and I  
Don't know where we lost control  
It's the beginning of the end and I  
Know that I am all alone_

 _The life we knew before is gone  
There is no compromising  
The life you save will be your own  
To find your inner senses  
To find your inner senses  
To find your inner senses_

 _('Beginning Of The End', by Spineshank)_

* * *

Soft steps echoed through the citadel softly, with a the kind of a sound that remained unchanged through millennia, no matter how many feet were traveling through those hallowed halls. The air was cold, verging on chilly, even if the outside of the building was already fairly warm in comparison, the Vatican soil once again bracing for what was said to be an extremely hot day.

It was early - if someone would bother to look at the clock they would've been dismayed to see it was only half past four in the morning. But that didn't deter the two travelers from traversing the length of the corridor any, quietly talking while they trekked to their destination.

Both of them were clerics - one of them was fairly tall with handsome face and kind greenish blue eyes, the strands of his wavy brown hair falling softly on his brow, while the other was half of a head smaller than his companion. His black hair was straight as a ruler and cut at his ears, while his dark gray eyes held both a look of softness with hidden steel within. They were a curious contrast - a man who was clearly of a Roman heritage, with the one whose face would be more common in Japan than in Europe. One would expect that the two wouldn't be going along so well, just because they were of different races, but they would be very wrong.

The taller one chuckled at the smaller one's quip, as he looked at his companion with both affection and a tiny bit of aggravation visible in his unique colored eyes. However, his attention was diverted when they heard another set of steps coming toward them. This new person was still in the shadows, but from what they could see, he was clad in black gakuran, with a golden cross on his chest, his face blank of any expression.

The taller one's eyes widened with surprise and delight as he smiled at the newcomer.

"Kirei! Long time no see!" he exclaimed, making his smaller companion look between the two of them with confusion.

"Father Nicolas. Working as an Examiner, I see." The now named Kirei nodded, but his face remained implacable, even as he reached for the offered hand in a handshake.

Greenish blue eyes warmed further, and Father Nicolas chuckled in amusement. "As ever, nothing escapes you. This," He motioned to his confused companion, "Is my co-worker, Father Hiraga Josef Kou. And what are you doing here? I would expect you to be somewhere in America or something."

"Pleased to meet you." Kirei returned Father Hiraga's bow with his own before shaking his head. "Circumstances have changed and I needed additional information on some things. And where better to look than in Vatican?" His quip made Father Hiraga blink and open his mouth, before his black-haired friend offered an agreeing smile.

" _Where_ , indeed." He murmured politely, but gray eyes were scrutinizing the strange empty-eyed priest curiously.

Chuckling, Father Nicolas nodded. "You're the same as ever, Kirei." He teased, before sighing. "You would've been a great addition to Examiners. Any chance of you to change your mind and join us?"

Father Hiraga's eyebrows shot up. It was rare to hear Father Nicolas outright _wheedling_ someone, and this made his newest acquaintance even more intriguing. Father Nicolas was an expert in ancient documents and cryptanalysis, and for someone like him to respect and outright invite this person to join the Examiners, Kirei had to be someone very special.

Blinking slowly, Kirei tilted his head. "I have already chosen my path, as you well know. " His reply caused Father Nicolas' shoulders to slump with disappointment. "Ah… Not enough excitement for you, I see." Father Nicolas mumbled, dismay coloring his voice.. "But if you ever change your mind…" He trailed off hopefully as he once again perked up, giving Kirei a bright smile.

"I know where to find you." The strange dull-eyed priest finished, causing Father Nicolas huff with exasperated aggravation at his _non-sequitor._

That Kirei, always so hard to deal with.

"You would know where I am even better than me, I know." He snarked back, before smiling fondly. "May the God protects you on your path. And do visit me some time; I would love to catch up what you've been up to."

"Of course." Kirei gave the duo a polite nod and then went his way, his steps way quieter than those of the two priests he left behind.

"Roberto?" Hiraga inquired his friend. This encounter was very strange, indeed. He hadn't expected to see Japanese here, much less that this particular person would be acquaintances with Roberto. But it seemed that this day would be a day of surprises.

The Italian shook his head before looking at Hiraga fondly. "We were in the same class in seminary." He explained, smiling at the memories. "Kotomine Kirei was… _unique_ , to say the least. He was easily the best in our year, and he could've gone ahead to be one of the greatest bishops if he had gone the conventional way, but…" He shook his head, his mouth tightening with half-disapproval and half-concern. "He had been chosen to be one of His weapons. "

Hiraga's quick mind grasped the unheard message as soon as it had been spoken. Gentle gray eyes widened with horrified fascination.

"He is - " _'- an Executor?'_ The untold words hung between the two of them like an elegant lace made of tiny, but sharp thorns.

* * *

Roberto nodded solemnly. "He is." He muttered, his eyes flicking to where his friend had disappeared. "One of the best."

Hiraga hummed thoughtfully. "And you two are still keeping in touch?" His voice was light, but there was a strange undertone beneath his words.

His friend shook his head. "Regretfully, no." Dark eyebrows furrowed. "Our ways don't cross all that often, considering that he is walking different road that our Lord had placed him onto." Greenish blue eyes were troubled. "I only pray that he has found his own faith in his pursuits."

Instead of relaxing, Hiraga frowned harder. "How did that man became a priest?" He whispered, full of some no-named unease. "He has… the eyes of an abyss." Hiraga shuddered. He had seen people at their worst, but nothing had prepared him for looking into those brown eyes and see literally _nothing_ being reflected back at him.

Roberto nodded, but inwardly, he was surprised that Hiraga, who was usually slow to pick up the slight nuances of social cues so very perceptive of his old friend. But perhaps, it was something between their kind of people…?

Humming thoughtfully, he racked his brain for an answer. Finally giving up, he just shrugged a helpless shrug. True, Kirei wasn't the easiest one to get along with, but…"I don't know his reasoning -"' _And wasn't that an irritating part,'_ Roberto thought to himself sourly. "But isn't it better that he is on our side than the one opposite of us?"

He watched Hiraga mull over his answer, those dark eyes blinking thoughtfully. "I… suppose it is," Hiraga answered slowly. "But for how long?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Kirei had a different problem to deal with.

Even with Xanxus' information, as scarce as it was, his research of the subject had screeched to a halt. The only one source that was somewhat close to Harry's little problem was too tattered to draw any solid conclusions on it. Father Adriano had tried, but the good man knew even less than Kirei on the subject.

Which meant that Kirei would have to cease playing nice and do something the holy fathers would definitely disapprove of if they had known what was Kirei about to do.

It wasn't unusual for Executors to mingle with the lowest of the low, the most depraved and dishonest in their course of work. This was one of the reasons that not anyone was suited to be an Executor and those few who were had been carefully hidden from the eyes of public. It wouldn't do for the Church to be accused of using … ah, _forcible_ persuasion, when it pertained her more… shall we say, _stubborn_ subjects or opponents. The two were interchangeable, after all.

Xanxus was one tiny part of the puzzle, what with his mother being killed by a _mafioso._ And considering that Xanxus' mother had the knowledge of something called Sky flames, then it was almost a sure bet that the higher echelons would've known plenty more on the subject than an uneducated, half-mad woman.

The only part Kirei had to do now, was to somehow infiltrate the underground and find someone high enough on the proverbial food chain to squeeze the information out of.

Kirei's education was unorthodox by any conventional means. Raised by a priest, taken in to be shaped into an Executor at the tender age of ten, then returning back to seminary to conclude his education before being inducted into priesthood for formalities' sake and meanwhile occasionally moonlighting as Tokiomi's sole pupil because his Origin was apparently valuable enough for the higher-ups to allow the fraternization with the section they would rather see burn a thousand deaths if possible.

His path had led him into the deepest pits of most terrible horrors humanity could inflict on itself, just as he walked the path of the holiest ideals humankind could offer.

He had been indifferent to both. It was either the one or another, but neither moved him much. What would be the point, if to sin and to abstain didn't result in anything but feeling of hollowness and misery in his chest.

However, this time, Kirei had a mission. So he left his cross off his chest, hung the _gakuran_ on the hook and instead switched it out with a scruffy hoodie. He then put on the earrings and mussed his hair, absentmindedly noticing that he ought to have a haircut somewhere in the future sometime soon.

Nobody who would have seen him then would have thought that this broody young man with empty dark eyes was a priest.

The competitors of the underground battle ring certainly hadn't.

* * *

It was his fourth night in a row. The screams of the bloodthirsty crowd banging at his ears, the scent of blood, sweat, questionable substances and dirt in the ring in the underground garage that had been converted into a party place.

Nobody would have thought that underneath all of its holy splendor, Vatican was just as bloody, if not even more so, than any other town. In this place, completely stuffed with human bodies gyrating against each other or enacting violence upon its opponents, there was a drug cartel, selling its products, laundering the money from the unlawful acts and people's lives were worth less than a dog's. In this den of violence and depravity, Kirei hoped to find another piece of puzzle.

It had cost him at least three favors he had accumulated on his missions - it was always good to have friends in heaven and hell, you never know when one would need them - but Kirei already considered favors as ones well spent.

Because there were those… Flames. Not in such great quantities like the four of them had, and definitely feeling weaker somehow, but Kirei could already make some conclusions on how they were used by just watching their owners brandishing them in a fight.

Like that fellow, Leorio. An unusually lanky man, almost rail thin, but his needles was something to look out for, and his body endurance was almost unreal by normal standards.

The twins were interesting, what with their bondage outfits, and it was rare to see female fighters in the makeshift arena. But considering they had an i _nteresting_ habit to send their opponents to the floor screaming in pain even if they just barely touched them...well, now. Kirei resolved to adopt that little trick of theirs into his arsenal as soon as possible. It was very simple in theory, but he could already see the drawbacks of such a technique, which needed to be resolved before he attempted to use it in a combat situation himself.

There were the others, like that knife user, but only because they used curved knives, with their blades more like hooks of a poker than anything else.

But this evening, the crowd had been whipped into an unusually strong frenzy.

Kirei had asked around, and the answer had been ever the same - the ticket to some kind of an Island. The priest in disguise would've scoffed at it, but up until now, nothing was ever like it seemed to be and he had a kind of a hunch that this could be his big break of some sort.

He still resolved to keep that away from Harry. No need for his danger magnet of a friend to know just what kind of shenanigans was Kirei getting into all by his lonesome.

They had announced his fight next, and this time, it was against some fanged fellow who used deer horn knives.

Never mind that it was supposed to be a no weapons match.

Arching one of his forked eyebrows, Kirei entered the makeshift arena amidst the roars of the excited crowd.

He eyed the fanged man grinning at him, his maniacal dark eyes glinting under his bandanna as he expertly twirled his weapons, the steel glinting coldly in the dim lights, in an attempt to intimidate him.

Well, at least he wouldn't be bored.

* * *

Boredom was the _least_ of his problems.

Twitching again and suppressing the reflex out of habit, Kirei smoothed out the frown into an disinterested gaze as he looked at the culprit of his unease.

Because somehow, someway and sometime, a new person had made their headway across tonight's brawl.

This fellow was clad in red _cheongsam_ with a stitched dark gold Easter dragon vying across the fabric up to the man's right shoulder, it's eyes glaring balefully at the man's opponents, as if judging them unworthy of its wearer's attention. His black pants were loose and his feet were clad in simple black Chinese shoes. He would've looked like an ordinary tourist, what with his slanted eyes and casually Asian cast of his facial features, if it weren't for his hip-length black braid swaying on his slender back like tail of panther.

The stranger's lips were lifted into a good-natured smile, as if everything that was happening around him was just some kind of an amusing performance for his entertainment.

Many had dismissed him as a small fry at first.

But not Kirei. Not with that feeling the man had been emanating, like red sky, calm before the storm that upended everything on its path.

Then, someone got a bright idea to try and take an advantage of that conveniently long braid.

A flash of a movement later, the man was down and howling with pain as he cradled his broken arm. And if Kirei had seen it right - and he _did_ \- this red-clad stranger managed to break his attacker's arm on two separate places with just one movement.

Kiritsugu had a similar feeling of destructiveness, but it was tempered with something deeper and darker and much more _sinister._

In comparison with him, the Chinese's energy was feeling almost _crystal clean_ in its destructive potential.

The red-clad man moved like water and lightning, twisting and turning, both evading his opponents and on occasion hitting them, the hits, rare as they were, likened to a dragon playing with pack of rabid dogs to alleviate its boredom.

Kirei felt his lips twitch into a facsimile of smile as he categorized the styles the stranger was using against his vict - ahem, unintentional opponents. Maybe this evening wouldn't be so much of a loss after all.

 _'Oh, this should be interesting.'_

* * *

Fon was a humble man. Even if he had been hailed as a pinnacle of martial artists everywhere, he remained realistic. There was always someone stronger, or at least on a comparable level to him.

Even in this little cesspool of dregs of humanity -

It had been just an idle curiosity, a whim, really, that led him to that inhospitable place. That and he had been under orders - request, really - to check out some strange happenings in the East.

And nothing like venting his _annoyance_ on a couple of bystanders which Fon knew really deserved their comeuppance.

Nothing ought to have happened. He ought to have gone in, happily terrorize the unruly crowd as to vent out some of his frustrations when dealing with the Triads - Heavens above and Earth below, did he really _have_ to deal with those truly annoying persons every time? It would take only a moment - and not even that - to dispose of them, but truly, the fallout from that wouldn't be worth the effort expounded to… ah, permanently incapacitate them.

Ah, the entire situation was bothersome. Fon really didn't have patience to deal with their shamelessness. He had accepted this little mission, because otherwise, there would be **_blood._** Even the famed patience of the _Eye of the Storm_ stretched only so far.

Lazily, he danced between the rowdy men who were trying to beat each other out the bloodiest and most painful way they knew how. The inner artist within him turned his head way and covered his face. Ah, how painful, to see just how butchered the martial arts had become in the West.

There were some exemptions, rare, but there, like feeble sparkles on the cloudy night sky. A movement here, an interesting block there. A moment of cunning translated into an unusual defense or attack.

His eye was caught by a youth who looked at him, seemingly not bothered by his opponent's anger at him not heeding their attacks. This young man moved like water, seemingly without any effort or attention, as he absentmindedly dispatched of his opponents in the most effective manner possible.

Forked eyebrows, dark eyes and hanging cross-shaped earrings in the lower lobes of his ears. Fon mentally raised his eyebrows, incredulous at the man's appearance. This fellow, he truly didn't belong here, ah.

It was like seeing a dragon among the carps.

A baby dragon at that, if Fon's senses were correct.

He was just surprised that no _famiglia_ or Triad managed to snap this one yet, what with the youth expounding all the classic signs of being Flame Active.

The only question was, which Flame did he have, and if they were at the Useful stage yet.

Humming, now thoroughly entertained, Fon made a beckoning move with his right hand to the baby dragon in front of him, his until then serene smile quirking up in excitement.

* * *

The fight between those two could be likened to a clash between two celestial dragons above the mongrels barking futilely at each other in an attempt to be the biggest, baddest, meanest and the most dangerous thing in the room.

Within few moments, the two of them had - intentionally or not - cleared the arena of everyone else, be that because the fools were idiotic enough to get into their way or because the self-same fools just had the really bad luck in being in their way when they fought.

No matter what the true reason was, the end result remained the same. Bystanders scurried away from them like rats fleeing from drowning boats, only to turn around and then gaping at the two forces of nature that were destroying their surroundings casually, like hurricanes given human forms.

They exchanged blows and feints like lightning, and many a time a casual observer couldn't follow the pace of their match.

Fon knew that there was always someone strong to fight against, even if finding such an opponent was as difficult as finding a general among thousands of troops.

And one Kotomine Kirei was just that. His strength and endurance were inhuman, even by Fon's standards and his knowledge of martial arts was hair-raising.

With each blow, each feint and dodge, Fon's curiosity grew by leaps and bounds.

Just _who_ had taught this baby dragon - and more importantly, **_how_** , for the dragon to gain such sharp fangs in so little time? Fon himself was a prodigy by nature, but in front of him, there was one who had toiled long hours to get to where he was right now.

The only reason Fon was still leading in this little match of theirs was because the priest didn't really bother to truly go all out and using everything at his disposal.

Neither did Fon, for that matter, but he just had too much fun to cheapen their fight with Flame tricks, no matter how amusing and interesting would be to see just what his opponent would do if he fired _Storm Dragon_ …or two… or maybe three… at him.

* * *

Those yapping dogs finally retreated to a safe enough distance not to bother the duo, much to Fon's pleasure. They finally recognized that they were of no consequence to them.

Their harsh breaths mixed, eyes blazing with excitement and curiosity as they exchanged bloodied grins.

Could they go faster? Higher? _Stronger?_

With a corner of his right eye, Fon noticed the strange hilts tucked in the youth's jacket.

Dark eyes widened with shock.

 _Black Keys!_

As a master of martial arts, Fon's prowess also extended to the cold weapons, which he either mastered or had a good enough grasp on their handling to be considered an expert.

Only one weapon constantly evaded him.

Black Keys. What a serendipitous luck, to encounter their wielder in that little shithole of a building. And even greater luck that Fon was fighting him. Truly, Fon was being heavily favored by Heavens that night.

Fon was curious of those Black Keys, for they seemed to be more of a bother than useful weapon. But curiosity killed the cat… and Fon was too curious not to poke at that particular subject. "Let's take it up for a notch." He murmured. If his smile was a little bit more bloodthirsty when he said that - well, then, it was nobody's business but his own.

* * *

If their weaponless fight hadn't been _bad_ enough, then when they brought out their weapons - Fon decided to be childish and fire a Storm Dragon, just for the kick of it and to egg his opponent on, and his opponent blocked with - where the _fuck_ did he get those glowing claws!? - then when they took it up a notch, it was already an _overkill._

Nobody was willing to stay with the two fight nutters just to see who would win. They favored their lived way higher than their curiosity, thank you very much!

The underground room - place - hole - _whatever_ it was that had served as their battleground, was utterly demolished.

Both of them breathed harshly, their bodies bloodied and Fon's braid was undone, with at least half of its length sheared off, with their clothes suffering a brunt of damage.

Fon's _cheongsam_ was a sad casualty of the fight, exposing a black tattooed dragon winding its way across his torso, while Kirei had gotten off a little bit better but not my bunch, as half of his black T-shirt was done in and his hoodie was an already lost cause. Surprisingly enough, his earrings remained undamaged in the whole affair, despite some very narrow missed with those red flames shaped as dragons.

"You are good." Kirei only twitched at Fon's huffed-out acknowledgement.

"Same to you. I didn't expect to encounter one who knew so many styles. It was an… interesting experience." he finished lamely, promoting Fon to snap out a bark of amusement.

 _"That_ \- " Fon wheezed out painfully (Kirei busted at least three of his ribs and breathing right now was a bit of a bother), grinning, "Is a bit of an _understatement."_

He plopped down on the dusty ground, grimacing at his body's protest. "So what is baby dragon like you doing among those filthy dogs?" He asked, now truly curious as he beckoned Kirei to follow his example.

The young priest hesitated a little, but then apparently decided that being tense was not a good way to feel. With a tiny sigh of defeat he carefully lowered himself down, but keeping his eyes on the strange martial artist all the same.

"What do you know of the Sky Flames?" His blunt question caught Fon flat-footed enough for the usually perpetually calm Storm to choke on a lungful of air.

"You truly have a death wish, don't you?" Fon finally responded when he finally dealt with his coughing fit.

"Maybe I do" Kirei nodded an assent. "But if I don't ask, I risk my friend dying all the sooner for it."

Fon paused at hearing those somber words. "That friend of yours… You Harmonized with him, didn't you?" He carefully questioned. Elements were ridiculously possessive of their Skies, and from what he experienced, this baby dragon was well on his way to be ridiculously powerful in his own right… once he masters his Flames, that is.

Kirei hesitated, but then slowly nodded. "He had been wounded by another Sky when he was little." He expounded on the situation briskly. "The enemy's Flames are choking his own ones down, and from what I've researched, the only way to free him of them is to kill him."

"Dear heavens." Fon breathed, sickened. This little dragon didn't lie. He didn't have any reason to - it was a talk between two warriors, after all. And for an Element to be confronted with such a dire fact… Fon could only pity the boy. No Element wanted to see their Sky die and the situation this baby dragon was in, could be likened to being in dragon's pool and tiger's den at the same time. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

The strange fighter just nodded. "Indeed." His own voice was flat, almost bordering on sarcastic, but Fon didn't think this baby dragon had even an ounce of sarcasm in his bones. Not when it concerned his Sky.

"And what now?" Fon prompted. The Chinese didn't intend to be a bleeding heart. But he was curious just was this baby dragon planning to do next, considering that his insane infiltration into the underground hadn't borne the fruits he had expected to pick.

He got a shrug. "Starting from the beginning, I suppose." The baby dragon - Fon seriously had to ask the guy for a name, because calling him baby dragon was getting kind of ridiculous – replied nonchalantly. "Eventually I will get a hold of someone who would have answers. Ask enough of people…" He trailed off.

Fon couldn't help it. He goggled at the guy. This was that kind of an insane plan that would have its user either hunted by all the prominent _famiglias_ once he got their attention to his person, kidnapped for research or six feet under.

But knowing this baby dragon, he would do it. Somehow, and both heaven and earth would tremble in his wake... if he survived long enough, that is.

Shaking his head bemusedly, he opened his mouth.

Well, at least he could have his part of fun, witnessing him rampage around.

(And if he got a good sparring partner out of the deal, all the better.)

(Mind you, he _still_ had to ask the baby dragon for his name. Fon didn't know why, but that little fact eluded him time and time again, and he wasn't an overly forgetful person, thank you very much!)

* * *

Kuzuki Soichiro was just about the most uninteresting guy one could meet. Or at least that was the impression most of the people said young man had met in his life. He was so bland even staring at the drying wall would be more exciting action than talking to him.

Which was an excellent quality for an assassin, but helped very little when it came to social interaction.

Kuzuki Soichiro could be, for all Kirei cared, a potted plant. For example, a cactus.

Surprisingly - or not - the said Kuzuki Soichiro has the exact same opinion of one Kotomine Kirei. Those two wouldn't have gotten along in any ordinary circumstances - aka not meeting their mutual friend - but as they were doomed to the friendship with Harry - out of their own free will, mind you - they had to nilly-willy suffer each other's presence.

Not that it was hard to do. In comparison with Kiritsugu's and Xanxus' scuffle with Kirei, Soichiro's own relations with the priest were positively _flourishing_ with understanding. Or at least with abundance of willful ignorance of their presence when both of them were in the same room.

But if the two of them cared about anything it was Harry's well-being. And when Kirei was rudely called in by his so-called mentor - Soichiro had seen the tell-tale twitch and felt the killing intent wafting off the priest when the call came in - both of them were unanimous on what they were about to do.

With Kirei being metaphorically tied to his obligations to that pompous fluff of a Tohsaka, one Kuzuki Soichiro was thus passed the extremely important mission to go to the Mafia Island and herein gather the intelligence about the Flames and what it could be done with them.

The situation wasn't ideal - Kirei was the one who was more sensitive to Flames, along with having at least some of the Magus teaching to back his knowledge and theories. Souchiro, on the other hand was just plain blue assassin, no different than dime a dozen of others scattered around the world. It was like sending an illiterate country bumpkin to an extremely sophisticated and advanced university course.

Talking of course, Kirei and he spent an entire night going through crash for Soichiro to get at least passably aware of what he should look out for.

At four in the morning, Soichiro snuck onto the small boat docked on Tiber and with a bit of luck, he was soon on his way to the sea and something called Mafia Island.

* * *

Armed with information Kirei had somehow managed to provide - it evidently counted under 'don't ask don't tell', considering the priest had come back from his excursion bloodied and with his clothes in tatters and wearing _earrings_ of all things - Soichiro managed to hide on one of the boats.

The boat was more like a cruiser, even if one who carried people who were definition of armed and dangerous. Soichiro was an assassin himself, but even he had to wonder just how they swindled by the sea police with the amount of weapons and guns seen on the decks. Even exhausted as he was, Soichiro successfully managed to blend in, creating an image of tired and extremely harried underling who sorely lacked a good old fashioned coffee jolt in his guts.

Four days later, they were at their destination.

* * *

Mafia Island was just that - a giant entertainment park for _mafiosi._

If he hadn't been there, Soichiro himself wouldn't have believed it that something like that existed in the world. It was like any amusement park, only, you know, with higher prices, everyone toting around their weapons despite the place in question being announced a neutral territory, and well, it was mostly for adults…even if they had that sparkly carousel with unicorns and cute teddy bears, what the hell.

If Soichiro hadn't been convinced the people in Mafia were a little skewed in their brain before, this handy little place smoothly waved away his half-hearted arguments.

But on the other side…

The assassin's eyes had been opened. Even if Kirei's one-night tutorial from hell was kind of hasty and full of gaping holes in information, Soichiro at least had some kind of base to build up from.

He may not have had Kirei's finely tuned senses, but his own were also unnaturally perceptive to the shifts of this strange power those _mafiosi_ were carelessly using in abundance.

Healing, Destruction, Construction. Harmony, Multiplication, Reflection… each of them had been used, some overtly, as if their owners were either afraid to be seen using it or having good enough amount of control to successfully tamp down on it. There were also some people who shamelessly flashed it around in an attempt to impress the onlookers… especially if those onlookers were trying to attract the attention of a pretty female Sky.

And that, like some song would say, was the beginning of an end, not that anyone had known it yet.

To top it all off, the conflict in question had nothing to do with Soichiro. Honestly. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _Irisviel von Einzbern, but if one would say the young woman in question she was Irisviel Potter-Black, thank you very much, was not a weak damsel in distress. She may have looked like a fragile snowflake of a girl, but anyone who clashed with her could claim that she was one bloody scary powerhouse, just like her adoptive older brother Xanxus. Times three._

 _Not that it deterred some very persistent - read: insane - people trying to court her._

 _When it happened for the first time, anyone had expected Xanxus to erupt in a blood red rage to end all the rages. Much to their disappointment, the usually high-strung Wrath Sky was as calm as cucumber, even going so far as to smirk with amusement as if to pity the poor fool that tried to curry his little sister's favor._

 _They got their answer when the suitors in question exited Iri's room shaken to the bone and babbbling about a devil or something being in there._

 _Intrigued, and also charmed by Iri's beauty, one Prince the Ripper also tried his luck._

 _When he entered the room, he was greeted by the snowy beauty with the eyes like the warmest, most succulent of blood._

 _"Shishishi, Ice Queen." Bel gave her his most charmign grin. "You are hard one to get indeed. This prince will reward you – "_

 _He was interrupted by a growl and a wave of… Bloodlust?_

 _Bel's eyes, hidden behind his mass of air blinked with confusion. There was no one aside him and his lovely Ice Queen in the room, was there?_

 _The killing intent in the said room intensified._

 _And to Bel's surprise, it emanated from the haughty black owl with curiously crimson eyes regally perching on Iri's knee, those eyes currently glaring bloody murder at the prince._

 _Bel was a prince. Princes didn't_ gape _. It was an unprince-ly thing to do, Bel had to remind himself._

 _But really, that fluff ball was the source of the killing intent that could be comparable to the Ripper Prince's._

 _"Shishishi…" His laugh trailed off when he saw something vaguely similar to metal hiding between the owl's feathers, and in a very similar shape, too._

 _Those red eyes amped the glare up another notch, causing Bel to grin his own bloodthirsty smirk at the said and noted fluff ball. Just how dangerous could be one itty bitty owl with a glare problem, anyway?_

 _When the first of the – holy_ fuck _, they were **sharp!** \- knives flashed toward his face, Bel realized that maybe he would've been better off if he just kept his bloody mouth shut. _

_Somehow, the owl - Bel's beloved Iri called the uncouth thing Alucard - launched a veritable hail of extremely sharp knives at Prince's royal person._

 _Bel's hidden eyes glinted._

 _"Oh, you_ dare _to_ mimic _this Prince, peasant? Shishi…" He flashed his creepiest, most bloodthirsty grin. "Well, shall the Prince show you how it's_ really _done?"_

 _If it was possible, for an owl, Alucard returned the Ripper's grin in spades… owl version._

 _Suffice to say, Bel met his match in the shape of black feathery menace called Alucard and everyone unused to the two had a mild breakdown._

 _"Oh god. Now there's_ two _of them!"_

 _Bel still tried to dig out just where Alucard managed to pack his frankly ridiculous amount of knives on his all too small body._

 _(Suffice to say his threat/suggestion of him plucking Alucard if the dastardly owl didn't tell him how was he doing it ended in a mini apocalypse._

 _Xanxus was short one manor the guest Magi were traumatized for life and Hedwig got the chance to test the owl-fu against both Alucard and Bel._

 _Nobody dared to say to her that_ she _was the one that had caused the biggest amount of destruction out of the three of them._

 _This was_ Hedwig. _The one who took on_ both _Alucard and Ripper Prince and soundly whack_ both _of those bloodthirsty_ idiots _down merely because a_ tip _of Bel's knife just_ nicked _at one of her tail feathers. It wasn't even_ visible _, for Athena's sake.)_

 _Knife buddies for life?_

 _You betcha._

 _You can't survive some things (Hedwig,) without coming out as friends._

 _Though Alucard still didn't tell Bel the secret of his seemingly bottomless stash of knives._

 _Silly human. A vampire never tells his secrets._


	25. Chapter 25

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own a whit, except this crazy story.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ So, there. The chapter is finally out, and a mite bit longer because the bug bit me like that. Last week I practically crashed and burned, but I am up and running once again.

 _ **Warning:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, bad words ahoy, my own story ran away from me, the traitor ( _dammit_ ), so back to the writing board once again.

* * *

 _And I can choose to respect it,_

 _or choose to infect it_

 _But once it hits the water,_

 _it's too late to be selective_

 _When we scream,_

 _our lips don't make a sound_

 _We march,_

 _with feet on solid ground_

 _We walk,_

 _where no one wants to go,_

 _On this untraveled road_

 _('This Untraveled Road'_ by _Thousand Foot Krutch)_

* * *

"Hey, you! Yes, _you,_ you jealous fucker! Turn around and face me like a man!"

Soichiro blinked at the rude address aimed at his person.

At first, he wasn't quite sure that he was the one being called out, because the only thing he had done, was to evade some drunkard and his buddies coming out from the tavern the said drunkard was apparently drowning in his sorrows and anger for not successfully attracting the pretty little Sky's attention.

It had been pretty much a hilarious affair if one had watched it. The young lady in question was an example of prim and proper disdain - truly a classic princess - while the fool in question tried everything from pick-up lines to his meager abilities with Storm Flames - Soichiro was pretty sure that the man had at least tried to flare his Storm Flames high enough to at least try and snag the Sky's Flames attention if not outright bond with them.

And there came Soichiro, not doing anything aside passing by, and while the young lady in question was pretty dismissive of her annoyingly persistent - and most importantly, _willing_ suitor- something about Soichiro snagged her attention and she began doing puppy eyes in his direction.

Thing was, Soichiro had been doing nothing to warrant the lady's attention. He was just passing by and had the misfortune of the lady in question fixating on his … Flames? That had to be it.

Luckily for Soichiro, and much to the frustration of the pretty lady - she was average pretty, with dull auburn hair and light gray eyes, clad in dress that wouldn't be out of picture in some early Disney movie, with her hair done in two side drill ponytails - the little lady didn't have such warm and encompassing Sky like Harry did. For all that she tried - and try she _did_ , considering the three meter radius around her was apparently under influence of her Flames, with people looking up at her adoringly or trying - subtly and not so subtly - to gain her attention, along with the now-drunk idiot who was currently trying to pick up fight with Soichiro.

Soichiro never thought there would came a day when he would be profoundly _grateful_ that he was an assassin. But apparently life was surprising like that. He frowned and mentally batted those weak-warm flames away, causing the girl to emit a pained yelp, and crowd bristle at his obvious Rejection of her Flames.

The fool tried to move in to, _ah,_ console her, only to get slapped for his efforts, the slap reinforced by her Flames, causing his cheek to gain the red of burnt skin.

But the assassin was already away, not caring about the damage he had done to her or the increasingly agitated crowd. Wasn't his problem, anyway.

Only, the idiot had apparently made Soichiro his problem. Soichiro didn't even _know_ how he found him, because he was sure that he was untraceable.

* * *

Soichiro had the peace for all of … three hours. Yeah, that sounded about right.

But there was that saying the biggest idiots have the greatest amounts of luck...

 _"You!_ You spoiled my entrance to _signorina_ Sophia! H-How _dare_ you!" The idiot in question swayed on his legs, as he crashed his brass knuckles together in an effort to appear intimidating.

Sadly, Soichiro was sorely unimpressed by his performance. The hungover kitten would be scarier than this - hell, even peeved off _Xanxus_ rated higher than this sorry excuse for a criminal.

"Well. I, Red Rodrigo, will show you just what happens to the fuckers who try to poach on my territory! And then, you will appo-go-ize to me an' I will be _signorina's_ Sophia's Storm!" If Soichiro didn't have steel control over his emotions, he would've sighed with exasperation.

What was with him being a magnet for the utterly stupid people on this island? Was there some kind of drug in water or something?

"I don't have any intention to fight you for this position. So just go ahead." He waved the man off carelessly while thinking about how to purchase the ticked off this island of insanity as soon as possible.

"Are you saying that _signorina_ Sophia is _worthless_ , you cur!?" The drunkard roared, his fists igniting with red fire as he hurled towards Soichiro, intending to make a mess out of the _cazzo,_ his friends loudly supporting him in the background.

The next few moments, nobody was exactly sure what had happened.

There were a couple of blue flashes, prompting Red Rodrigo to scream in pain as he stumbled backward, clutching his left arm and ribs.

And there, as if he didn't even move at all, was his opponent, calm as cucumber. "You should quit when you are ahead." The man Red Rodrigo thought as an easy prey advised him, pushing the glasses higher up his nose and causing the lenses to glow ominously in the light of the day. "I am not interested in her or anyone else on this island."

All Soichiro got in return for his well-meaning advice was an incoherent snarl and another lunge of his attacker. Yup, there had to be something in the water of this island, because this was the only reasonable explanation for the man's actions. And everyone else's.

And why would Soichiro even _try_ to be someone else's Element? The assassin shook his head. It was like being offered pathetically burnt down cake when he had already gotten his fill of a first-class one.

He may not have been as sensitive to the Flames as Kirei, but Sky Flames for him could be likened to small magnets that tried to coax and then grab the Flames they desired into their net.

This girl - _signorina_ Sophia, was it? - was just the one whose attraction was more obvious to the onlookers. A brute force compounding girl's natural vibe of being a… damsel in distress, as it were. Her Flames made her look more attractive than she really was, and because she was one of the rare females with the Sky flames in the mafia, she was sought for all the more, even if she was a member of one of the weaker _famiglias_ in the grander scheme of the things.

If there was any other situation, Soichiro may have even be convinced for a moment or two to give her his aid in the matter.

But her Flames didn't have that - excuse the pun - _magnetic_ attraction - or even the warmth like Harry's did. Harry's attraction was a comfortable warm weight in his chest, yet still light enough to not be uncomfortable. Lady Sophia's was… the best Soichiro could try to describe it, would be an like an annoying kid trying to be cute when trying to gain attention from the person it was interested in by its incessant chatter and pulling their hair at the same time. So in short, while not overly painful, also not very polite or pleasant either.

And that pathetic assault of this Red Rodrigo person was just… _Pitiful_. Too many stances, too many openings, the energy wasn't even _focused_ -

\- if Soichiro's Master had seen that excuse of a martial artist, the said excuse would've been first made into a punching bag for the six-year olds to practice some less lethal, but no less painful techniques on before being killed outright.

Even _five-year olds_ were better than this imbecile that was currently charging at him, foaming at his mouth like an enraged bull, and wasn't that just _depressing?_

Fed up with the farce and wanting to move on, Soichiro decided to resolve the fight with a knock out.

* * *

Red Rodrigo's blood was boiling. His ribs were hurting and he knew that his arm was busted but he was determined not to give up before teaching this little yellow upstart where his place was.

He bull-headedly ignored the little voice inside his head trying to stop him from being unreasonable. Unreasonable, _him?_ He was totally within his mind, thank you very much, and his mood would be even better when he would -

The next moment, all he felt was a blinding white-hot pain and then -

Darkness.

* * *

If Soichiro had thought that would be the end of it, he had been sorely mistaken.

"I don't want to cause trouble. Please let me go my way." He was ever so polite. But it seemed that the inhabitants of this island were inoculated to it, considering they reacted to it like he had just insulted their very mother and grandmother.

The idiot's friends were idiots by association… because idiots apparently thought alike enough to try and finish what their leader had started.

Five of them, armed and dangerous, and ganging on seemingly harmless individual whose only fault was that his luck this day turned to negative side.

"Then ya shouldna fucked up mah friend." One of them slurred out, his beady eyes glinting from under the wide-brimmed hat as he shrugged, the movement sluggishly loose.

Soichiro felt a spark of irritation.

Really?

He inhaled - and then had to intercept the next attack.

 _Block, parry, strike - !_

The idiots apparently went for a little bit more intelligent approach, trying to disorient him by random attacks from all sides.

Soichiro grabbed the wrist of the one who had tried to attack him from behind, dodged in the same breath and then shoved the captured hooligan at the one in front of him, using his body to intercept the attack that was meant for him, and outright punching the third one into trachea, causing him to gurgle out a shout of pain and blood.

"Y-You basta - _Urgh!"_ Soichiro didn't relent in his assault. Even if there were two down for the count and third one could possibly make some trouble for him, there were still two attackers -

Or not. Soichiro raised his eyebrow when the two in question backed off.

"Will you cease attacking me?"

Even as he spoke his half-question-half-demand, his eyes spotted one of the fools drawing out a gun and _really?_

Soichiro kind of wanted to cry. This excuse for a Mexican standoff was getting more and more ridiculous by the minute.

' _So stupid…'_

He had been faster than them, even when they outnumbered him five to one. They had seen that with their very own eyes. Which ought to be enough for them to back the hell off and leave him alone. What had given the imbeciles the _idea_ that going against him - even armed with a gun - would end any differently?

Conventional thinking proved that guns were faster than people.

But if there existed such a rule, the said rule couldn't exist without having some kind of an exception to validate the said rule.

Guns were faster than _ordinary_ people.

Sadly for the idiots in question, Soichiro was not their usual brand of assassin, helpless against the ever-threatening muzzle of a gun and it's contents ready to be spewed up at the moment's notice.

Even before the idiot number one managed to aim the gun properly, Soichiro was already moving.

Three heartbeats later, both of the fools were a whimpering mess on the floor, and the bystanders looking from a far thankfully had enough sense not to hinder an obviously irate assassin on his warpath to the ticket office to purchase his ticket to mainland - ahem, freedom.

No amount of information wasn't worth of staying on this island of crazies longer than Soichiro absolutely had to. Kirei would just have to suck it up and if he wasn't satisfied with the info haul, then Soichiro would tell him to get the rest of it in his own person.

See how well he would have fared _then._

* * *

This Lightning Fast Bastard or LFB in short was a source of frustration for the Island's security. Of course, the code-name on official papers was Ghost, but unofficially, the Sec Ofs - or Security Officers - called him by that unflattering nickname.

And it all began oh so very innocently, another kerfuffle over a Sky.

(As a result of said kerfuffle, the Sky Lady in question was forbidden to use her Flames for the duration of her stay on the island - her trying to get that LFB had been a disaster from the very beginning to the end, and there were also the talks about her _famiglia_ unintentionally landing in a hot water with some of the old crowd because of her thoughtless actions.)

The Storm, Red Rodrigo, known for his use of brass knuckles and enforcing his hits via Storm Flames, wasn't particularly notorious, aside from his self-given nickname and governing his little group of buddies. But he had been rejected by Sky Lady quite forcefully in favor of that LFB, and apparently decided the said LFB deserved some kind of an comeuppance for his failed Courting of the said Sky Lady.

Lightning Fast Bastard in question hadn't been impressed. He had even tried to dissuade the situation, advising the fools in question to quit while they were getting ahead but of course, no dice there.

What followed was one-sided _massacre._ When the victims had been accepted to the hospital, the doctors were both horrified and impressed. Horrified that those hits would have been lethal if they hit just a little bit harder and impressed because the Lightning user in question apparently didn't use the Flame at all, aside reinforcing his body .

The Ghost was just that - a Ghost. A Lightning like that ought to have been _noticed_ \- he was a _Lightning,_ for fuck's sake, and they were as subtle as a flying anvil, what with their attraction of any and all strange happenings to themselves, but this one apparently deviated from the norm. They didn't know how this particular Lightning managed to circumvent the nature of his Flames, which was so very vexing it wasn't even funny.

The higher-ups very nearly had collective conniption when it dawned that this Lightning Fast Bastard may as well be a true ghost - try as they may, the witnesses didn't remember how he looked like. To even further their already high ire, was that even their ever-reliable cameras failed.

Reward for the Ghost - at first offered by Sophia Garcia Lopez, the little lady that apparently tried to Court the Ghost - had been meager ten thousand euros. Somehow, the gossip about the Lightning Fast Bastard other abilities leaked out - even the best security was to the gossip akin to a leaking sieve - the price steeped up in a sharp jump.

Consequently, this slippery little fish with sharp Lightning fangs had unintentionally gotten the attention of the big fishes, so to speak, and the malicious and very passionate prayer of many a security member of the Mafia Island they worked on was the Lightning Fast Bastard, aka the Ghost's bounty would be paid out through the Dead option.

* * *

With half an ear and even less attention, Kirei was listening to his mentor babbling about this and that… when he wasn't doting on his new fiance. He steadfastly ignored the pains and aches he had gotten from his little duel with his newest acquaintance. It wouldn't do well to show any kind of weakness, after all. But Tokiomi's babble was another kind of torture altogether.

Kirei more and more wondered about the wisdom of Risei Kotomine who had entrusted him under the said man's care. Right now, Tokiomi Tohsaka wasn't a shrewd Magus, but a fool obviously in love with this woman… Aoi Zenjou, was it?

The woman in question was sitting on the brown settee calmly, her pale skin offsetting her light gray dress that was decorated with a simple sand-colored bow on her chest. Dark eyes were kind and sad looking, and her dark-waist-long hair even enhanced her image as some kind of a fragile young lady.

But more than this woman, Kirei was interested in her companion. He didn't talk much, his eyes were bitter and tired, but when the woman looked up at him, his expression changed into one of affectionate weariness. He was clad in a semi-formal ensemble of dark gray trousers and jacket coupled with stormy gray shirt, Only color that kind of broke the monotony of the ensemble was a simple dark lavender tie. But the most interesting was that feeling of… _darkness..._ suffusing the man's core. Kirei blinked and reassembled his sensed to a more physical sense of things.

The man was interested by something, particularly when Kirei used hand gestures to illustrate some point, which was already unusual.

And the man's eyes always followed...what, his right hand?

Kirei blinked, bemused. _Right hand?_

His own gaze unintentionally, even if inconspicuously slid down to see just what -

' _Ah. This. '_

He had almost forgotten about that little trinket.

The bracelet he had been given in the Gringotts. Despite obvious craftsmanship and precious materials it had been made from - an impossible combination of white crystal and rose gold and by all accounts it should have looked gaudy like hell, but instead, was classy, unobtrusive and like it had been meant to be worn - nobody really paid any attention to it being worn on Kirei's wrist.

Just to confirm his suspicions, Kirei made some kind of an offhanded gesture to reveal his wrist in Tokiomi's sight, but for some reason, his mentor didn't even twitch. Nor did his woman.

However, the eyes of one Matou Kariya followed the path of this little trinket like… he.. could.. _see_ it. _Genuinely see_ it for some reason.

 _Curious._ Curious, indeed. Just why would Matou see it when the other two couldn't? Especially Tokiomi. For _shame,_ the man's profession was dealing with gems, and as for his woman… well, in Kirei's limited experience, women were like magpies - when they saw something glinting, then they had to investigate it, especially when that something proved to be a piece of an interesting jewelry.

Oh, well. Their loss.

* * *

"What do you think, Matou?"

Tokiomi's voice sliced through the uncomfortable atmosphere between the four of them like a dull knife,startling the man in question quite badly.

"Oh - what?" Dull brown eyes blinked owlishly as Matou tried to zero his attention back to the crimson-clad man, his expression visibly rattled for a moment before a mask of icy calm snapped back over the features of his face.

"I think it would be _quite_ a joyous occasion, Tokiomi-sensei." Kirei calmly interjected, indulging himself in catching a small flush of humiliation and anger on his newest prey's face."

Sending him a brief glare, Matou coughed into his hand. "I - of course, yes." The man's voice was lightly accented and scratchy, as if he hadn't talked much for very long periods of time.

"So would you be our witness?" Tokiomi pushed, his face beaming when he looked at Aoi, who smiled back at him indulgently.

Matou's lips tightened, and for a moment, Kirei almost wished the man would've said no. He obviously had some kind of an objection to this strange union, and oh, wouldn't it have been just _glorious_ to see the fallout from one simple word?

"I would be… _delighted_ to. Just. Treat Aoi _well_ , or else you will have to _deal_ with me." Previously dull brown eyes flashed with warning, like lightning cutting the inky blackness of the eternal night before they dulled out again. Kirei tilted his head. _'Oh? Seems this man isn't such a pushover like he seemed to be at the beginning, after all,_ ' He mused to himself.

"Splendid! Then, Kirei, you simply _must_ marry us!" Tokiomi beamed at the priest, seemingly unbothered by the strange atmosphere reigning the room.

Kirei blinked, stumped.

This time, it was him who had been caught flat-footed at Tokiomi's exuberant declaration.

"Perhaps Father Risei would be better for this auspicious occasion - " He tried to get himself out of this unexpected twist. His gaze flickered to the other two participants of this absurdity.

The woman - Aoi, was it - had an ambiguous smile on her lips, half-exasperated and half-fond, while Matou had flinched as if struck, the facade cracking even more for a moment, exposing the raw wounds underneath, before closing back, like some kind of a curtain made of fleshy concrete that was Matou's face.

"Nonsense, I insist!" Tokiomi's smile could be likened to a shark's. "Rise already agreed!" if it was possible, the man beamed even further. If Kirei hadn't known better, he would've thought Tokiomi was also his sort of a person - as in, enjoying misery of people.

But despite Tokiomi's numerous faults, this one wasn't among them.

Kirei felt his eyes blink. "Well, in that case… I would be honored." He murmured, bowing. In the corner of his eyes, he glanced at Matou, who stiffened as if he had been mortally wounded.

' _At least I wouldn't be lacking in entertainment.'_ He mused, his lips twitching into a smirk so tiny no one aside him would have known it was there.

Matou's dull eyes were still fastened to Kirei's right hand(- _wrist_ -) that was now over his chest as he bowed.

* * *

"Father Kotomine, I think you've forgotten something." The words echoed in the small cubicle that was men's toilet room.

The room in question was quite simple - white tiles on the wall and dark grey stone on the floor, with a simple white ceramic sink and steel pipe for water. The mirror above the sink was quite narrow, only big enough to show a man's face and a part of his torso, but nothing else. Kirei's own black attire was a curious enhancement of the austere scene, underlining the stark simplicity of the room's arrangement.

Kirei paused in washing his hands.

Behind him, there stood that woman's companion and his newest toy.

Matou Kariya?

The man himself looked like an addict, desperately craving his new fix, but just as desperately trying to avoid having the next dose of poison being injected in his veins.

Trembling hands, wild eyes, his body shaking and forehead clammy - Kirei mentally shook his head. It was quite amazing just how long had the man managed to keep his composure.

And...His eyes flickered to the man's right hand which had desperately clutched to an object, made from white and rose gold.

He honestly didn't expect the man to try and return it back to him.

"Oh?" He asked, his voice study in indifference. "How so, Matou-san?"

The man in question bit his lips hastily, as if biting down the retort to prevent a scratching comment passing through his mouth. Instead, Matou leaned against the door heavily, his walking stick clattering slightly on the floor with a dull sound.

He raised the tightly clenched fist, and grimaced as if in pain when he opened it to reveal its contents.

"This _is_ your bracelet, isn't it?" He snarled out breathlessly, dark eyes narrowed with helpless frustration that was smeared over with a liberal amount of unwilling greed. A heartbeat passed between the two of them. Then second, and third.

Kirei let the silence reign for a moment.

"So it is." He finally agreed when the man looked like he would've blown his top. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Matou's eyes just about bulged out of his sockets, so outraged he was. "What do I want of you to -!? " His shrilled, but abruptly snapped his mouth shut and Kirei narrowed when he once again sensed that disquieting feeling within the man.

It was akin to those cursed objects he had to dispose of - as in, disposal that included an thorough exorcism, and if that didn't succeed in driving the taint out of the subject - or a person - then an outright annihilation of the subject or object in question.

What a curious, curious juxtaposition, this man was. Honorable to a fault yet carrying something so very _vile_ within himself… briefly, Kirei wondered just what would have make this righteous man break so completely there would be no way back to to light for him.

 _(And wouldn't that be an_ _ **interesting**_ _experiment?)_

Matou inhaled. Then exhaled. "I want you to take it back." He snapped out abruptly, as if fearing if he hadn't spoken his words right then, he would never manage to. His lips were thinned out into a pale line that denoted disapproval of Kirei's careless remark.

Kirei tilted his head. "And you need it more than me." Six words that could be mistaken for a lance, with how hard Matou lurched away when he heard them, previously angry eyes wide with conflict of angry righteousness and desperate greed within them.

"I _don't -_ " He snapped out, his face more akin to a wounded dog snapping at the hand that tried to save him from the trap it found himself in than anything else.

"Do you _really_ want to finish that sentence?" Kirei asked, his voice even.

It wouldn't matter one way or another. But it was entertaining to see Matou squirm like a worm on a pike, caught in his own agony, caught between his indecisiveness and pain.

Whatever that darkness was that was causing him such deep pain, this bracelet seemed to assuage the symptoms.

(Kirei had intentionally got the bracelet off and placed it on a convenient low table when he excused himself for having to go to the toilet.)

Pitiful. Such a pitiful dog in a human guise.

Sighing, Kirei shook his head as he closed the pipe.

( _\- but when completely broken, would that stupidly loyal dog just perish or show his teeth at the world that broke him? -_ )

"Keep it." He repeated. "You need it more than me."

Matou's face slackened with both relief and incredulity at his apparent luck.

Wiping his hands, Kirei turned around and closed the distance between the two of them.

A single finger gently pushed the slackened jaw up, as those empty brown eyes looked down into Matou's own dark brown ones. The tall priest was almost leaning over the Magus, their eyes interlocked in an unexplained bond.

"Gaping is unbecoming of one of your stature, Matou." Kirei whispered to the man, whose eyes were now the size of quarters with shock at the priest's unexpected gesture.

"Accept it. And if you are truly as stubborn as I predict you are… " Kirei trailed off, his own blank eyes darkening further.

"Well, let's say you will owe me a favor in the future and we'll leave it at that."

Caught completely off-guard, Matou could do nothing but numbly nod his assent before his savior swept out of the toilet, silent like shadows that were hiding in the corners.

His fingers clenched around the seemingly too fragile object, feeling - _needing_ the soothing warmth it emitted.

(Matou Kariya didn't know yet, but in that single moment, he had made a deal with the devil.)

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

Red eyes glared into equally red ones. The Golden King was glaring at the tiny brat in front of him. The little mongrel didn't have the common sense of backing off, and Gilgamesh had been increasingly tempted to just perforate the brat via hail of weapons from his Gate and be done with it.

On the other side, Xanxus was just about done and _done_ with the arrogant overblown bag of gold with no fashion sense - seriously, _golden_ armor? - who tried to snatch away his Harry's attention away from him. It was already more than enough that he had to contend with those three assassin bastards of Harry's - he _allowed_ this just because they were Harry's friends and nothing more - but this jerk-face was a big _**NO** _ on all fronts.

"Ah, look at them, they are just like brothers," Tokiomi outright _cooed_ at the pair, causing their heads to whip back and twin red glares pinned the stupid idiot Magus on the spot. At the same time, Harry palmed his face in exasperation. Seriously, did Tokiomi, when Harry was in his proximity, lost all his survival instincts or something?

(For some reason Gilgamesh always abstained from violence when in Harry's presence. Of course, when Tokiomi discovered that little tidbit he milked it for all it was worth….)

" _WE ARE_ _ **NOT**_ _BROTHERS, YOU SCUM / MONGREL!"_ The twin roars echoed through the room, and the killer intent generated in this moment from the duo was such the two could be mistaken for demons. The picture wasn't made any better what with numerous weapons poking out of the golden circles in the room, all of them aimed at that Tohsaka fool, and Xanxus' claws also made an appearance in all of their multicolored glory.

A faint scent of urine permeated the room, when Tokiomi's knees knocked together before he gracelessly slid onto the floor, ready, willing and able to beg the demonic duo for mercy.

Silvery white eyebrows arched heavenward when the newcomer said the scene.

"Brotherly bonding time _again?_ I understand that Tokiomi makes for an oh so tempting target, but really, can't you two do a Scrabble or Risk instead?"

The glares of two _'brothers'_ in question zeroed at the impudent man.

"You just offered your unworthy carcass to be this King's entertainment. Rejoice, mongrel, your wish to be a Hero is about to be granted." Gilgamesh snarled, with Xanxus grunted his assent as the two prepared to...Have _fun_ with their newest victim.

(Tokiomi fainted. Nobody paid any attention to him.)

Their would-be victim was suitably unimpressed... and had their own weapon at hand.

"Okay, But no cookies for you two!"

The fires of hell and brimstone vanished like they hadn't existed in the first place.

No cookies… truly a horrifying prospect.

"What was that fucking Risk game again, scum?" Xanxus finally grunted out as he crossed his arms on the chest as he glared at the intruder.

(Harry's note to self: Never. _Ever._ Let the two in question play Risk. Or any other game that dealt with conquering something. Because the two of them were obsessive little _shits_ who were not above cheating like it was going out of style. Well, Xanxus cheated, Gilgamesh had that Golden Rule of his, which was like Biggest Cheat Ever. )

(Later in his life, Xanxus became an indisputable champion at poker and all other card games. Nobody - _ever -_ could prove that he was cheating in any way, shape or form. Not even _Reborn_.)

(Learning to out-cheat The Golden King took proverbial big brass balls the size of Jupiter and an ungodly amount of skill. (Which Xanxus had zealously cultivated to the extreme.) Everyone else after him? Pffft, _amateurs_.)


	26. Chapter 26

**_Disclaimer:_** Okay, not owning characters or song. Owning this story, though.

 ** _Shout Out:_** Another dose of our terrible kitty brat and his shenanigans. I swear, Xanxus was utterly _impossible_ to write. But story is going ahead more or less. Bitter reality of updating: Was up to 1 AM because of a certain kitty brat. I could've strangled him. Argh, the dubious joys of being an author... In addition, text in square brackets is there because Irisviel doesn't have an apt uderstanding of those words yet.

 ** _Warnings:_** **_AU_** on multiple scales, kitty brat being utterly impossible and Harry finally using his inner Slytherin.

* * *

 _Plain talking (plain talking)  
Take us so far (take us so far)  
Broken down cars (broken down cars)  
Like strung-out old stars (like strung-out old stars)_

 _Plain talking (plain talking)_  
 _Served us so well (served us so well)_  
 _Travelled through hell (travelled trough hell)_  
 _We know how it felt (we know how it felt)_

 _Lift me up, lift me up_  
 _Higher now up now_  
 _Lift me up, lift me up_  
 _Higher now up now_

( _"Lift Me Up"_ by _Moby_ )

* * *

Harry had a headache. Scratch that, he had _multiple_ headaches. And the one, who had oh so generously _provided_ them with was currently protectively curled around his newest tro - ahem, _family member_ on Harry's bed.

Xanxus, that little _brat,_ had outright _demanded_ that this… whatever it was… was his sister.

Yes, the homunculus looked like a little girl. No, it didn't help at all that it was naked, even if that was alleviated a little via it - _her_ \- being partially shielded with both Xanxus' body and Harry's cloak made into blanket.

Frowning, he resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and instead, he gently massaged his right temple. Closing his eyes, he wished that everything was a dream and that he was back in the good ole England - hell, even _Fluffy_ would've been preferable at that point.

 _'This is just a dream. A hallucination.'_ He firmly told himself. _'When I open my eyes, I will wake up and everything will be alright.'_

 _'…Or not'._ His gut fell even further when the disturbing picture hadn't changed one bit. Xanxus was still on Harry's bed, his eyes almost glowing as he stubbornly stared at both Harry and Kiritsugu as he clutched the - thing - to himself like it was some kind of a live teddy bear.

The thing in question was tiny - even tinier than Xanxus, but not by much, with long white hair that was still wet, and it's eyebrows and eyelashes were of the same color. If Harry hadn't known better, he would've thought that this was some kind of an albino, but the skin color was a healthy peach, even if the very lightest shades of it. If Harry hadn't known of its origins, he would've thought that this was only a little girl peacefully sleeping away.

However, Jubstacheit was clear on the issue. This - as human-like as it seemed to be - was the receptacle for the Holy Grail to materialize within when the time came. Harry shouldn't have gotten attached to it. It was moribund ever since its conception, strange as it were. But… Harry's eyebrows furrowed. It was unusual for Xanxus to become attached to the little doll - because that was what this _thing_ was in an essence - so quickly.

"Xanxus." Slightly glowing red eyes zeroed on him, narrowing as if Xanxus felt Harry's opinion on the issue and wasn't particularly happy about it. Harry ignored both pang of hurt and irritation, and instead focused on something more important.

"Why did you take it from - "

 ** _"Her."_** Xanxus viciously interrupted Harry, his own voice on the verge of being guttural and snarling, as if he were some kind of a beast, hell bent on protecting what he deemed his own.

Resisting the urge to curse out the impossible brat in front of him, Harry forced himself to nod. Kiritsugu's arms wound around his waist and a warm body pressed itself against his back, steadying him and stalling his temper, if only for a little bit.

If Harry had lost it there, then Kiritsugu would've lost it even further, and that was the _last_ thing they could afford in the middle of an enemy's territory. Kiritsugu's form was stiff with effort of having to hold himself back, and even if the assassin had improved in keeping a hold on his temper, Harry knew his friend was on a hair-thin trigger himself.

"Her." He acquiesced, not hiding a dismayed grimace. "Are you _aware_ that you've made us for the main scapegoats in your little act of heroism?"

Xanxus blinked, as if not comprehending what Harry was trying to tell him. "But I _had_ to take her." The red-eyed little boy argued, his mouth pressing in a stubborn mouse as he frowned. "I just - " He looked down on the precious one he held in his arms.

There were no words to describe this connection, this oneness he had experienced. It was just... "She is mine." He reiterated, feeling more than a bit foolish. "I saw her inside that glass and then she opened her eyes and called to me and I just had to get her out of this - !" He seethed as he remembered just how had he found her. Floating in that thing, numerous wires attached to her, a caged angel that called to him - _him_ , of all people, so very desperate and lonely and - !

It was not like whatever he had with his _turista_. If _Harry's_ … feeling... was like a scarf or shield of warmth wrapping around him, then this little one was like finally getting back a long-missed limb he didn't know he had existed without it until then. Something within him that had been hollowed out until then, had been filled - so instantly, wholly and completely that he just had to do _whatever_ it took to get to the one that had induced this wonderful feeling.

He didn't know how he had released her. He just knew that he couldn't have left here there for a second longer - because she was _his,_ dammit - and then he proceeded to do whatever it took to quench the urge.

He remembered those moments as if he were submerged in a mixture of water and fire, the images swaying in front of him like desert mirages as he stumbled through the hallways with his burden on his hands as if drunk. He felt warm - so very, very warm -

\- and then he was in front of Harry's room, with _turista_ opening the door, ready willing and able to verbally tear Xanxus' a new one -

\- only for Xanxus to Claim this little bit of green light for himself.

She was _his._ Harry - and his merry band of assassins - will just have to deal with it.

A fist crashed on the top of his head, causing Xanxus to yelp with shock.

 _"Ow!"_

"You impossible _brat._ " Kiritsugu's voice was wrath and flames and _destruction_ and Xanxus involuntarily shrank back into himself, gingerly feeling the throbbing bump on his head.

Kiritsugu's previously black irises were now an unholy mix of dark violet and jagged red lines. Xanxus' blood chilled at the sight. He had seen Kiritsugu like this only once - when they had launched that rescue mission in Freccia's stronghold. He had sworn to himself - then and there, to never, _ever_ do something that would piss the assassin in question to the degree the black of his eyes would change into _that._

"Are you even _aware_ just how much trouble did you cause us with your idiotic stunt?" Kiritsugu's voice was at a normal volume, but it may have been a thunder to Xanxus' ears.

"No one knows you are here. _Who,_ do you suppose, will they think _responsible_ for disappearance of their most valuable artifact?" Kiritsugu seethed, the energy crackling from him snapping and snarling like a hellhound on a fraying leash. It was not the question of _if,_ but of _when_ the least would snap and then Xanxus would be in a very deep shit.

Blinking, Xanxus opened his mouth to refute the assassin, only for Kiritsugu to rap him on the head once again.

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" The Magus Killer snapped at him.

Gulping, Xanxus squeezed his little sister to himself like a teddy bear, the glow in his own eyes subsiding when he began to think of ramifications his idiotic little act would cause for Harry.

Kiritsugu could usually handle unusual situations. As a Magus Killer one could say he specialized in unusual, considering his ways of dealing with whatever dangers life threw at him. But Xanxus had a wonderful - _not!_ \- ability to make him completely unhinged faster than one could say 'Clock Tower.' The kitty brat got on his nerves. Maybe it was because he had similar colors to Kiritsugu's own, only his shade of red was more of a reddish orange, the colors mixing like tiger's stripes -

Kiritsugu blinked. And blinked again as he looked at the brat. Or more accurately, his colors.

 _Oh._ Dear fucking _heavens._ He made an inarticulate sound as he roughly rubbed his eyes as to make sure they weren't deceiving him.

But there it was.

A tiny tint of emerald green.

Almost unnoticeable, if one hadn't known what to look for, but to Kiritsugu's eagle eyes, it was so obvious it was almost painful.

Kiritsugu didn't want to know or acknowledge its existence. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't given any choice in that matter. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat and he emitted a strange half-groan half-whine of desperation.

"Kiritsugu? Are you okay?" Harry's concerned voice floated to his ears. Kiritsugu wanted to resist looking at him - because this would've been the last fucking straw confirming his stupid hypothesis - but he was helpless in face of Harry's worry.

Dual colored eyes looked at his green-eyed friend and it was there, as sure as the sun was rising.

Harry's colors were brighter and warmer, but unlike Xanxus' own, they were threaded with four dual-colored threads. One of them, Kiritsugu knew as well as his own hand. The other two didn't take a second guess either, but there was an irritatingly colored fourth one… with a tiny spot of green within.

"That troublesome little shit had found a _Lightning_ \- " He long-sufferingly jerked a nod at Xanxus' newest...playmate? _Thing?_ " - and they've spontaneously bonded to each other." Kiritsugu finished as he looked down at his friend helplessly.

Green eyes widening and jaw involuntarily slacking for a moment, Harry looked like humanized goldfish.

"Oh. Oh, holy fucking _Merlin._ " Harry groaned, covering his eyes. If he had thought he had a mother of all migraines before, he now had the distinct and excruciating honor of experiencing its very _ancestor._ He began to massage his temple and why, oh _why_ was his life a joke of cosmic proportions _again?_

Xanxus, who now felt that he was out of the danger zone, looked from one to another with confused curiosity.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

Harry paused in his temple massage and glared down at his adopted son and apparently soon-to-be-adopted daughter.

"Xanxus." His voice was curiously flat, but he really was out of any fucks to give in this particular moment.

"Consider her adoption your Christmas gift in advance. And no, you are not getting another one this year."

Xanxus looked like his Christmas came early… and gone in the very same moment.

Kiritsugu's eyebrows quirked at the kitty brat's heartbroken face. If nothing else, the Magus Killer now kind of understood Kirei's penchant of giving people hope and then crushing it in the same breath.

It was kind of refreshing, really.

Besides, kitty brat deserved the comeuppance for all the trouble he had caused with his little rescuing operation.

* * *

"You want to do _what?"_

Jubstacheit Acht von Einzbern was sure that his hearing was failing him.

He was sitting in front of his writing desk, with Kiritsugu's assistant in sitting front of him, both of them drinking cup of an evening tea, as was Jubstacheit's habit and secret vice.

This completely unremarkable - and dare Jubstacheit think _soft_ \- assistant of Emiya's had proposed something completely outrageous to the Head of Einzberns.

The first day hadn't been over yet, and this person had the utter _gall_ to request of Jubstacheit to give his greatest creation to them for Harry to 'humanize' it.

Jubstacheit's brain, usually always on the top of things and happenings - how could he _not_ be, he was the leader of Einzberns for more than a half of millennia - hit an invisible wall.

He simply couldn't comprehend.

"I want to adopt it and teach it about humanity." Harry's face was blank, but his green eyes, such an unusual color for a human, burned with determination. Jubstacheit's elegant snowy white eyebrows quirked in interest.

This human was _stubborn._ Jubstacheit knew just how intimidating he was, but Magus Killer's assistant didn't budge even under his heaviest stare.

"And what do you intend to _accomplish_ with your little… _education_ spree?" He asked slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Bear in mind that all homunculi are _already_ equipped with all the knowledge needed ever since their inception."

Harry made a face at the last word, and Jubstacheit's sensitive ears caught something _like "I_ so _didn't need to know that."_ grumble, but he pretended not to hear it.

Then, the young man took his breath. "I am aware of that. But…" Harry paused.

"You've undoubtedly created something exceptional. I can't and won't refute that." Inwardly, Jubstacheit puffed up with pride, but outwardly, he gave only a short nod of acknowledgement. For one such as him, it was a foregone conclusion for his creation to be exemplary after all.

"But even if your creation is perfect, it lacks in one crucial component - its own _experience."_ Harry continued ruthlessly, disregarding Jubstacheit's warning glare at his person. "A person - or a homunculus in this case - can have all the knowledge of this world, but that knowledge is useless if it isn't further _augmented_ with personal experience. You can show and tell it how to defend itself from its enemies - even who its enemies are - but because it won't experience it for itself, it won't properly _evolve._ And because it won't properly evolve, its responses will also be sub-par or even dismal against its enemy." Hard green eyes stared into Jubstacheit's own dark ones.

"If you want to win, then it's unreasonable to leave a _gap_ in your creation's defenses. Moreover, it's completely _unforgivable_." Harry concluded, his voice completely sub-zero.

Jubstacheit gave a slow blink as he crossed his bony fingers in front of his mouth as he pondered the youth's impudent theory.

"Humanity is not needed." He finally retorted. "Machines are superior to humans. Humans are irrational, prone to subjective decisions and having irrational feelings, which makes them fail in critical moment." The edges of his mouth lowered in a bitter sneer. "If it weren't for human _interference_ , the Einzberns would've won this war three times over and more!" He snapped out.

Harry raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "If humanity is not needed, then machines don't have a reason to exist, either."

Jubstacheit stilled.

"What. Did. You. Say?" His words were deathly quiet. Anyone in Harry's place would've begged for mercy then and there. Harry, however, didn't budge an inch.

He had faced scarier.

(Basilisk, Dementors and one big spiky dragon came to mind.)

"You heard me." Harry's voice was even as he leaned back into his chair, as if everything was right in the world.

A tense silence breezed between the two as Jubstacheit contemplated the youngster's words. And much to his disgruntlement, he found them to be true.

"It's true that humanity is ridden with faults, but it's because of those self-same faults it's allowed to prosper as it is." Harry concluded. "If your creation is as perfect as you say it is, then adding something as trivial as intimate understanding of how humanity works won't harm our chances of winning." Harry finished, leaning back into his chair.

Jubstacheit stroked his beard thoughtfully.

* * *

Beyond mentally exhausted, Harry stalked back to his room. Even if he had played a complete hard ass in front of the Einzbern patriarch, it had taken all of his Slytherin cunning to keep the calm and collected face.

He didn't like the subterfuge - never had and never would. His encounters with Dumbledore, Fudge and Voldemort had left a bitter taste in his mouth. However on the enemy's ground he couldn't afford to play a foolhardy Gryffindor.

It was surprisingly easy and at the same time hard to slip into the mindset of a Slytherin. His mind flashed back to Xanxus' newest ... _acquisition._ Harry's face scrunched itself into an aggravated grimace. He had bartered for a… presumably living being like one would for a livestock they intended to slaughter for food.

 _'The things I am doing for that kitty son of mine…'_ Harry mentally grumbled to himself. Being a parent was truly a troublesome occupation.

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

It was a Pyrrhic victory at its truest.

His hand felt like made of lead when he placed them on a door handle and pressed it down.

* * *

Xanxus couldn't help but dread Harry's arrival.

After Harry had flat out told him that this she was his Christmas present, Xanxus had been promptly ignored in favor of Harry storming out of the room and leaving him alone with Kiritsugu.

Privately, Xanxus thought it would've been safer if Harry had left him to tender mercies of a starved tiger. Kiritsugu looked more like a pissed off dragon, what with Xanxus' latest _family_ blunder

To avoid looking at the dragon in human form, Xanxus resorted to watch his newest 'sister'.

It was as if someone had intentionally inversed their colors. While Xanxus' hair was black, her long hair was purest white, reminding him of a newly fallen snow. Xanxus' skin was darkened from sun, while hers reminded him of the palest shade of caramel. Her skin was soft and warm, even if she felt cooler than him for some reason.

After the complete ruckus Xanxus had done to get her out of her shell, she was still sleeping like baby, her breaths deep and even.

"I hope she is worth it, brat." Kiritsugu's voice could be likened to a snarl of a demon, causing Xanxus to flinch at the pressure wafting off of the Magus Killer. It was less than that time in Freccia, but for some reason, it was just as much, if not more so, terrifying, especially because there was no Kirei this time to stop Kiritsugu from flat out murdering him if the assassin felt that Xanxus stepped out of line by a hair.

"She is." Xanxus mumbled back, his eyes still riveted to the girl's face.

Even if he was still feeling a little bit burned with the loss of a Christmas present, he resolved to suck it up and bear with it. This was _his_ little sister and it was worth more than thousand Christmas presents, no matter how awesome they would've been for Xanxus to receive.

But what galled Xanxus even more now that he could think with semi-clear head, was turista's reaction to his little sister.

Shock. Horror. Dismay. And when Kiritsugu had told him about Xanxus being spontaneously bonded to his little sister, Harry's face crumbled with exasperated resignation, which then firmed up into grim determination as he marched out of the room. And Xanxus had a sinking feeling just what Harry had intended to do.

Xanxus' eyebrows scrunched with discontent as he looked at the little girl and wondered just what kind of price would Harry have to pay now to fulfill his foolish wish.

Fragile eyelids fluttered open, and Xanxus' eyes were riveted to the irises dyed with the life-giving crimson color of blood.

Pale pink lips parted, huffing out a small mewl of protest while those white eyebrows scrunched in discontent.

Xanxus' newly adopted little sister was awake.

* * *

 _Warm. **Safe.**_

Those two were dominate feelings when she had been carried through the cold halls of the Einzbern mansion. True, the hold she was in was awkward and at times uncomfortable, but that didn't matter, not really - what mattered the most was that she was safe and away from that ice cold presence that bore down to her in its infinite **_[ice] [cold]_** , **_[distance]_** and _**[cruelty].**_

But now, she was here, with the **_[puppy warmth]_** , in its embrace, and in front of them, there was **_[cold warmth]_** ** _,_** not like that **_[ice] [cold]_** one, but she supposed if angered, this **_[cold warmth]_** could be… ** _[dangerous]_** too. The cold warmth was [growling] at her warmth.

It was an unkind sound.

It made her want to hide within **_[puppy warmth],_** and stay there until the danger passed.

But on the other hand -

Emitting a sound of protest at **_[cold warmth]_** she opened her eyes.

Red met red, her eyes still fuzzy a little, while his own were a mix of shock and delight.

She blinked, her mouth opening a little.

She had seen the colors before, but not in this particular arrangement.

The puppy warmth was all warmth and dark colors, the **_[black]_** mess on his head spiking up here and there, and he smelled of **_[fire]_** and **_[_ _lightning_ _]_** ...

How... curious.

She was greeted with a grin and a blush, those red eyes wide with wonder and that beautiful warmth.

 _"Buona sera, sorellina."_

 _Little sister._ She was called little sister. Not that she understood it, but the voice and most importantly, the affection held within it was… Good. Great, even.

Slowly the edges of her mouth twitched, tilting up in an imitation of the shape on **_[puppy warmth's]_** lips.

Slowly reaching up her left limb - arm, something within her noted – she placed the flat part of it on the [puppy warmth's] cheek, slowly soaking in the first positive contact in what seemed to be forever.

Soft. Warm. Eh… **_[Squishy]._** She furrowed her eyebrows at the latest word, but dismissed it for a moment.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Breathing the air in, she tried to imitate those sounds she was greeted with.

 _"B-Buona zera…z-zore-lina."_ The voice crackled and hissed out of her throat, causing her to wince at the unsightly sound.

The ** _[puppy warmth]_** beamed at her for the first part of the greeting, but for some reason, it's jaw dropped when she addressed him as _sorellina._

Behind her, she heard the **_[cold warmth]_ ** crack into small, snipped off sounds, but there were not sharp, but rounded out and warm and for some reason, they made [puppy warmth] bristle at it.

"Oi, you! I am your _brother,_ not little sister!" The **_[puppy warmth]_** scowled at her half-heartedly as he poked her forehead with a pointer finger, making her blink at the offending appendage cluelessly. _"Fratello! Fratello_ , damn it! Say _fratello!"_

 ** _[Cold warmth]_** chuckled louder at the **_[puppy warmth's]_** struggles. Her warmth growled at it, before returning back to her and demanding to repeat those words.

She was confused, but she could do that.

 _"Fra-tello_ dammit?" She squeaked out, her eyes wide with hope that she got it right this time.

She got it right, didn't she? She repeated it perfectly! Beaming at him [puppy wa - no _, fratello dammit_ ] she gave him the wider version of that strange lip-shape that was on his face when he greeted her.

' _Fratello dammit_ ''s reaction was half-proud and half-desperate.

 ** _[Cold warmth's]_** muffled cascade of rolling sounds became louder and continuous.

"G-Good job, Xanxus." Kiritsugu wheezed at the kitty brat's despairing face. _"Only you_. Only you could get a little sister and teach her to both call you and curse in the same breath." He had to pause to wheeze out another guffaw of laughter. "Just wait when Harry hears about it."

Xanxus mouthed out more curses, forgetting his attentive audience of one.

But Kiritsugu didn't - he just happily let the kitty brat to dug his grave even deeper. Let him suffer through straightening his little sister's etiquette so _hah!_

* * *

When Harry came back, he was greeted by a pouty Xanxus glaring at Kiritsugu, who was red in his face from laughing too much, and _it_ innocently looking from one to another, _it's_ burgundy red eyes wide with confused innocence.

Raising his eyebrows, he blinked. "Do I really want to know?" Xanxus' panicked face and Kiritsugu's unholy grin were telling enough that his absence had generated a… interesting situation.

 _"Do_ tell him how your little sister calls her beloved big brother." Kiritsugu cajoled, dark eyes sparkling with mischief. Blinking owlishy, Harry peered at the panicked boy sitting on his bed. "Oh?" He mumbled disinterestedly. Whatever it was it could wait until later, really, but his cruiousity already raised its ugly head and demanding to be sated.

Xanxus began to wave him away frantically. "It's nothing, really – "He looked at Harry, beseeching him with a look to believe him. if Harry hadn't been interested beforeh, Xanxus' desperate reaction definitely intrigued him right then and there. So what -

 _"F-Fratello_ dammit!" A tiny voice piped out, causing Xanxus to turn wide, betrayed eyes at the white-haired rascal besides him. Harry coughed out in surprise.

The said white-haired rascal was wearing an angelic smile, like it just didn't cuss Xanxus out.

"You little _traitor_." Xanxus' little brotherly heart was positively _crushed._ How could it be that his cute little sister could betray him so very cruelly? Had she no loyalty and mercy for her big brother?

Nodding cutely as if agreeing with Xanxus' horrified statement of her person, she crossed her small, thin arms across her naked chest - just like Xanxus had his own a few moments before Harry had entered the room - and cheerfully piped up again, the words cracking through the room and further breaking Xanxus' brotherly pride and dignity from previous rubble into smithereens.

" _Fratello_ dammit!"

* * *

 ** _Scribble_**

 _Nobody knew just what exactly had happened in Fuyuki. After death of Father Kotomine and Tohsaka Tokiomi along with disappearance of Kotomine Kirei there had been no one able to send reports to parties invested in the ordeal- that is, mainly Clock Tower and the Church._

 _What had been known, however, was that there erupted a terrible fire that had destroyed most of the city and was, for some reason, extremely resistant to most of the methods of extinguishing it… until, for some reason, it had gone out… just like_ that.

 _The losses had been enormous - not only in the city infrastructure, and lives, but also with the participants of Holy Grail._

 _The survivors were few and far between._

 _And one of them was Waver Velvet, the Master of Rider._

 _Whispers and covert glances followed him ever since he returned back to the Tower. Waver stoically bore it - before, that kind of attention would have been crushing enough to render him a blubbering wreck._

 _But that was before, when he was stupid, stubborn, immature and cowardly idiot who though that Grail War could be used to solve his stupid little problems with idiots that formed organization called Clock Tower._

 _Before, he would have thought that just thinking of that esteemed organization in such context as a heresy - sure, they had their flaws, but hadn't they all? ._

 _That, however, was old Waver Velvet. The naïve one, who thought that he could change the world for the better with his words and discoveries. New Waver Velvet thought differently._

 _New Waver Velvet had gone through unimaginable things, seen great acts and legends and done through unimaginable things. New Waver Velvet didn't care that his lectures had a crushingly tiny amount of pupils. That new Waver Velvet picked up the research of the deceased Kayneth El Melloi and turned it into a splendid Encyclopaedia, thus reviving the name of declining El Melloi family._

 _"I recognize your deeds to the Archibald family, but since you were only making up for what you caused in the first place, you better serve me for your entire life." Waver stared at the girl who spoke those words that could condemn him into life of servitude._

 _Her appearance could be likened to that of a bisque doll - long, brilliant blonde hair, pale white skin and blue eyes, clad in knee high ultramarine blue dress with small black cap on her head, her long legs covered with black leggings for modesty sake coupled with low brown boots. Her clothes were almost too sophisticated for a fifteen year old girl._

 _The old Waver Velvet would've been crushed under those words. But this Waver Velvet had other things to do than to entertain a little girl's delusions of him owing her anything else than what he had already done for the El Melloi family._

 _"No." One word. A complete rejection._

 _The girl tilted her head. "_ No? _What gave you_ any _idea that you have any choice in that matter? Because you stole the artifact you've caused my family an immeasurable grievance. Thus it's only fair you atone for it." Reines El-Melloi Archisorte accused him, her voice soft and completely unthreatening for such a serious subject._

 _Waver snorted. "Correct me if I am wrong, but Lord El Melloi participated in the Grail War out of his own volition, with his own Servant. Is that true?"_

 _Fine blonde eyebrows scrunched as Reina glared at him. "Yes. But you've stolen his artifact - a_ priceless _artifact, which could've ensured him to win if it weren't for_ your _interference." She stated, her voice becoming colder and more contemptuous._

 _"Can you_ prove _that?" Waver volleyed back ruthlessly. "Can you prove your statement without_ any _shadow of doubt?" Reines opened her mouth, but Waver didn't let her speak. "You can't. You can argue that you are right until you are_ blue _in the face, but you weren't a Master or even an active participant in this War." He glared at her. "War means that final victory is never a foregone conclusion. In this war, Kayneth had been so outmatched and outgunned it wasn't even funny."_

 _Reina's cheeks flushed at the perceived insult of the deceased patriarch of her family. "That is because he was forced to summon Lancer with its terrible luck!" She spat out, incensed. "And you still dare to say you've paid your debt!"_

 _"Oh, I_ dare _," Waver glared at her. "Tell me something, Lady Reines. Could_ you _go against Emiya Kiritsugu and_ win?" _His voice was dark and raspy, as his dark grey eyes bored into the girl's own blue ones insistently. "What would you have_ done _, if you had to contend with_ Gilgamesh, _King of Heroes_ himself _and his infinite armory?" He stepped closer to her, forcing her to back away, her eyes blinking with trepidation and the smallest amount of fear. But Waver was on a roll "How would you_ deal _with Kotomine Kirei, an_ Executor _with the skills of Magus? Or maybe, if that particular opponent is not to your liking, would you rather go against an_ insane _duo of murderers that relished in deception and torture? You wouldn't have known that it was them, until it was too late." He sneered at the girl, letting the steel hold on the entity within him a little bit loose "And perchance, if you were **lucky** enough to conquer all of them, how would you deal with the _Prize _itself?" He saw he blanch a sickly white as she stumbled back._

 _Golden cat-slit eyes glared at her as the shadow behind Waver wavered and stretched into something truly monstrous. "Well,_ Miss _Reines El Melloi? What is your answer?" His whisper was not his own whisper anymore, but a shriek of blades and curses intermixed with vile deeds too monstrous to be described._


	27. Chapter 27

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own it. I own the sleepless nights, plot twists and a big nest of plotdragons to be written through. And this story.

 ** _Shout Out_** ** _:_** Happy belated Halloween, guys and gals! Hope you had fun trick-and-treating around or otherwise celebrating that life is apparently just a temporary vacation/school for us to get through. An honorary greeting to **_Iheartlife888_** , this chapter is dedicated to you! So enjoy!

 ** _Warnings:_** ** _AU_** on a multiple scales, someone gets rekked and Xanxus is, for once, on a losing side.

* * *

 _I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad_  
 _I got sunshine in a bag_  
 _I'm useless but not for long_  
 _The future is coming on_  
 _I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad_  
 _I got sunshine in a bag_  
 _I'm useless but not for long_  
 _The future is coming on_  
 _It's coming on_  
 _It's coming on_  
 _It's coming on_

( _'Clint Eastwood'_ by _Gorillaz_ )

* * *

After the first day of excitement, the rest of them seemed almost boring in comparison. True, Xanxus had to hide himself under the cloak every time the servants came into Harry's room to bring the food, clean away the dishes or just do the general maintenance of the room, but overall, it wasn't something they would have to be concerned over much.

The one thing, though, that both amused Harry and made the tips of Xanxus' ears fire engine red, was Irisviel's insistence to follow the red-eyed little boy just about anywhere.

Usually, that shouldn't have been a problem, but it became a problem when Xanxus had to either take a leak or take care of personal hygiene. The first time it had happened - and Xanxus swore that it never happened, thank you very much - he nearly caused both Harry and Kiritsugu to forcibly enter the bathroom what with his high-pitched shriek of... manly surprise when he turned around to fetch the soap and instead encountered - Irisviel's hair.

Kiritsugu was amused. Harry was torn between amusement and mortification for his charge, Xanxus begged for some kind of a brain bleach and Irisviel - or, as Harry called her, Iri - was confused why was her group of humans doing such a big deal out of such minor deal.

Much to Harry's relief, the one who had taken charge of Iri's re-education, was Xanxus. Maybe it had been kind of cruel of him to demand a barely six-years old to take care of an advanced artificial intelligence that could and would have pulverized him into smithereens given the right incentive, but considering that Iri clung to Xanxus like white to rice, it was kind of... inevitable.

Iri had been fascinated with Kiritsugu, too, for some reason, mostly because Kiritsugu continued Xanxus' lessons on cold weapons, and Kiritsugu was reluctantly intrigued by a tiny Homunculus, if only because he had to make sure that she was not a threat to Harry.

(If making sure included showing her movies, music and for some reason making her dance with Xanxus counted as it.)

To Harry, Iri was kind of hesitant and cautious. Probably because she senses that Harry wasn't inclined to accept her as readily as Xanxus and Kiritsugu. As for Harry, the green-eyed ex-wizard was slowly getting used to the little girl – even if she was, for all he knew, an artificial intelligence, which kind of freaked him out at first - he didn't know much about the development of technology, but he knew enough to know that whatever Einzberns used to produce such human-like machines – dolls - _beings,_ was light years ahead of anything similar spotted in normal world. Any scientist would've given their left arm and leg along with their firstborn for just a glance of whatever the Einzbern family used to produce such a perfect subject.

Harry didn't know how they managed it. As a wizard, animating a small object wasn't anything big for him – hell, it had been in the curriculum, and there existed something called Battle Transfiguration (he had been snooping in library when Hermione took off her eagle eyes off of it), but to make such an advanced AI that had their personalities and quirks, along with likes and dislikes… it made him kind of sick when he thought about how such perfect creations may have come into being.

And one of those mysteriously animated dolls – _beings_ \- Harry forcefully corrected himself - was now under his ownership. Even if he called it an adoption because that had been written on the paper, the cold, hard truth was that Harry was an owner of an extremely intelligent artificial machine up until the self-same machine fulfilled its given purpose and in case of a failure… the Einzberns would have the right to do with him whatever they wanted.

Considering the Einzberns were, in essence, glorified doll makers and not averse to experimentation if they found out that Harry was more than just a humble assistant to the Magus Killer - well. The stakes were high. Harry kept mum about his little wager with Jubstacheit, because his friend of nor, Kiritsugu would have words with him if he managed to find out just what kind of trouble Harry had stirred for himself with that little agreement.

But as long as Xanxus was happy - Harry looked at the boy who was sitting on his bed, huffing and pouting while Iri was decorating his hair with pink bows and glitter - then Harry was happy too.

He smirked as he caught Kiritsugu quickly hide a tiny camera, his friend grinning like all of his birthdays had come at one.

He had a feeling that Kirei and Kiritsugu would bond over the blackmail - ahem, _fond memories_ of the tiny kitty brat being decorated with the girly stuff very, very well.

* * *

Jubstacheit had a headache. Which in itself was a strange occurrence - he was an AI and he didn't do headaches, but one of the humans he took care of as their head of house claimed that the symptoms he was feeling were headache.

It was hollow pain in the frontal lobe of his brain, seemingly doggedly following something around the manor. The headache had begun later in the night that first day when the Magus Killer and his assistant came, and then got exponentially stronger over the course of the day.

Sometimes, it was but an annoyance. Other times - and to Jubstacheit's annoyance, those times were random - those headaches rose in intensity strong enough that he couldn't do anything but sit in his chair, keep his eyes closed and pray the attack would pass as soon as possible.

Sometimes, it was when he was in presence of Kiritsugu's assistant - which was kind of strange, but all of the people he had assigned to the man reported that the assistant harbored nothing that could interfere with Jubstacheit's circuits.

And once again, the pain spiked, scrambling his thought process, making the old man's noble visage change into an angry cast.

Well. This had gone on long enough. If his servants were as incompetent as they seemed to be, then it was a foregone conclusion that the one to do the job would be Jubstacheit himself.

The ornate chair Jubstacheit had previously sat on clattered onto the floor, causing the maid servant to flinch at the obscenely loud sound, but Jubstacheit disregarded the sound in order to marching to the door and toward the source of his headache.

He would get to the bottom of that mystery and by the Root, whoever dared to play such a distasteful joke on him, they better be prepared to be his _personal_ test subject!

* * *

Xanxus was both entertained and frustrated. He had been playing with Iri twenty questions - only those twenty questions were not limited to twenty, but ranged from everything and anything. Even if he had a head-start when it came to communication, feelings and random trivia, Iri, much to his frustration and fascination, firmly led in science, etiquette and magi arts. It was both fascinating and annoying how such a little girl who didn't even know what family was, effortlessly trounced him in overall knowledge.

Well, at least he had lost his little nickname of _'fratello damit',_ and it was instead shortened to _'nii-san',_ courtesy of an extremely amused Kiritsugu - the bastard had taken pity at Xanxus desperate frustration at being nicknamed so cruelly from his little sister and nudged the said little sister to a more preferred title. But right now… Xanxus smirked. Right now, his cute little sister was at his mercy.

"But _nii-san!"_ Iri pouted, crossing her hands on her chest as she glared at her big brother in aggravation. Seeing his smirk widening even more, her pout became even more pronounced. Honestly! Her bit brother was mean! How could she have known that if a doggie wags its tail it means it's happy! Doggies were similar to kitties, four paws, tails, furry, so shouldn't they also behave like kitties?

"Score for me, _sorellina._ " Xanxus smirked, poking his tongue out at her in a playful tease.

Both of them were tucked in the hidden alcove in a garden with the cloak being close to Xanxus in case some servant came in in search of Iri. One of things Harry had managed to convince the ancient coot to allow was for Iri being allowed to get out in the manor's garden.

"No fair!" Iri whined.

It took some time to make her come out of her emotionless shell, but with some of Xanxus' little nudges (and via Kiritsugu's movies), she began to behave like a little girl, even if she occasionally stuttered on some unknown phrase or emotion. Much to Xanxus' chagrin, she was still wary of Harry, but she couldn't explain why, much to her frustration.

The two children were let off on their own - more like Xanxus had snuck off with Iri in a tow, leaving two boring geezers, as he disrespectfully called both Harry and Kiritsugu, to their own boring activities.

Kiritsugu had been pissed off, while Harry was more or less shocked and confused about Xanxus' strange claim.

 _Geezers?_ Hey, who was Xanxus, that disrespectful little kitty brat to call _Harry_ of all people a geezer? But looking at Kiritsugu's half pissed- off and half-mortified face, Harry decided to let that particular dog lie… at least for now.

Kiritsugu had been behaving kind of strange around Harry ever since that fiasco with Harry and Kirei unintentionally adopting Xanxus.

And what was with his little offer/threat of the next kid Harry would adopt also being his own, too? Wasn't that a little bit too shameless?

Harry would've thought that Kiritsugu had to be some kind of a prophet, what with his all too correct prediction of him gathering yet another brat - well, Iri technically wasn't human thus his adoption wasn't so much of an adoption of a person, but more like adoption and subsequent ownership of a pet, even if the agreement was temporary one.

At first, Harry thought Kiritsugu was antsy because he was expecting that dreadful message from Gringotts of Harry's yet another addition to his increasingly confusing family tree, but the longer they were with the Einzberns, the stranger Kiritsugu was becoming.

Honestly, glaring at Xanxus because he elected to snuggle with Harry at night? Harry had offered Kiritsugu to have Xanxus for a night or two, but both Xanxus and Kiritsugu looked positively _horrified_ at the prospect of being left to their own devices aka being forced to share one bed.

Not that Harry didn't smell a scent of smoke when he woke up at mornings, even if the only person he had been sharing his bed with was his little rascal of a son.

And of course, Kiritsugu watching him. Not very obvious when they were in company of other people, but when they were alone, and Kiritsugu didn't instruct Xanxus or do some or another kind of maintenance of his weapons, his eyes inevitably followed Harry.

Harry didn't have any proof for this little hobby of his messy-haired friend but he knew when he was being stared at - but at least Kiritsugu's stares were the ones of a good variant – _somehow,_ instead of the rude ones Harry's numerous little stalkers used when he was still at Hogwarts. The messy-haired assassin also blushed at the strangest times, but when Harry asked him why, Kiritsugu stubbornly refused to answer, only reiterating that he was alright and Harry shouldn't have minded Kiritsugu so much.

Harry was at a loss. What exactly was going on with Kiritsugu? Not that he minded hugs and snuggles when they were safely away from the mindless army of drones that were Einzbern's servants, but…

Kiritsugu's excuse that he missed Harry and just wanted to make sure Harry was well and truly with him was so corny and so often used that Harry, despite feeling very flattered, began to slowly wonder what lied beneath it.

But now Xanxus had unintentionally given Harry a chance to find out just what in the name of Merlin was going on with Kiritsugu. Before, Kiritsugu could excuse himself in some way, even going so far as to use Xanxus under pretense of kitty brat not having enough of lessons or something. Xanxus was not a happy camper being a scapegoat, but Kiritsugu usually didn't give him any chance to retaliate, but today, it seemed that Kiritsugu's luck had ran out on this front.

Well. Harry took his breath, mentally preparing himself for a very awkward conversation.

"Kiritsugu?" he questioned, causing the assassin to lift his head from the piece of semi-automatic gun he was polishing just then. "Hmm?" Kiritsugu hummed distractedly, his eyes distant, blinking before he zeroed his attention to Harry.

"I don't know why, but you are acting weird around me. Why's that?" Blunt and to the point.

* * *

Kiritsugu's mind was running both through memories and battle simulations, but most of his mind was dedicated to Harry. This little mission with Einzberns was kind of both blessing and a curse in disguise. Blessing because Kiritsugu and Harry were both away from that shitty priest and the other assassin, and curse because they were together and Kiritsugu had to deal with the uncomfortable influx of new feelings toward his friend. It didn't help that he had to be careful not to reveal too much so that Jubstacheit wouldn't have discovered that Harry was Magus Killer's Achilles' heel, and on the other side, he had to tread lightly lest Harry - or Xanxus - discover his newest dilemma and pester him about it.

There was also this strange mixture of Flames to consider. He hesitated to train them like Kirei had his own - firstly, they were in an unfamiliar territory and it wasn't wise to reveal any kind of weaknesses or trump cards, and secondly, he didn't have a clue how to go about Activating them without causing massive property damage.

 _Sever_ and _Bind._ If Kirei was right in his supposition which meant Kiritsugu had both Storm and Cloud flames, and the first and also last time he had activated them, was not a happy occasion. If it weren't for Kirei's quick intervention, the kitty brat would've been brained to premature death. The possessive rage which had coursed through his veins had gotten terrifyingly strong boost and for the first time in his life, Kiritsugu felt like some force of nature - absolutely free and terrifying in its rage. The starved beast within him then didn't care for justice or anything remotely close to it but only for overwhelming annihilation of anything that dared to defy them.

He had been so deep within his thought that he almost failed to hear Harry's question. He heard it first, and then, his brain chewed through the context of the words in question.

When it finally dawned at him just what had his friend asked him, Kiritsugu just about choked on air, his eyes widening to what felt was the size of saucers as he looked at his friend.

"W-What did you say?" He spluttered, helpless to stop the heat crawling into his cheeks and in the tips of his ears.

 _Oh no_. This was _not_ good.

Serious green eyes bore into him as Harry tilted his head, unknowingly making the glasses he wore flash with an ominous light. "I think you heard me." Harry retorted lightly, his gaze unwavering.

Kiritsugu wanted to run and hide. He had known that this - whatever it was he felt toward Harry - was getting bigger than just friendship, and he tried to suppress it as best as he could. For some time it seemed that he had been doing a good job out of that, but now - his fingers clenched the gun as if it were some kind of a teddy bear that would protect him from his own big bad evil feelings.

"Um. I plead the fifth?" He finally squeaked out, his half reply half-question causing Harry's eyebrows to raise.

"You plead the fifth?" Harry asked, confused. "Fifth what?"

Kiritsugu didn't know whether to groan or face palm at Harry's innocence. "Never mind." He quickly replied, seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. If he managed to weather through this…

"But Kiritsugu, you still haven't answered my question." Harry reminded him. "You are acting all weird around me and I want to know why."

Dammit. Harry was cute, but his persistence right now was troublesome, Kiritsugu mused grimly. He really didn't want to place all the cards on the table, so to speak, but maybe…

Dryly swallowing and still feeling like his throat was made out of sandpaper, Kiritsugu carefully coughed. "Acting weird how?" He prompted, tilting his head in askance.

If in doubt, then make them reveal more information.

It was Harry's turn to blush and Kiritsugu watched, fascinated how those lightly tanned cheeks became slightly rosy with embarrassment. "W-Well, you are watching me, and you sleep with me and you are being much more huggy than usual."Harry blurted out, blushing even harder.

 _"_ _Huggy?"_ Kiritsugu felt both amusement and dread. Was he really so bad with touchy-feely things?

But looking back at their stay in Germany… yes, yes, he was. Maybe he ought to have done the sensible thing and left Harry in Italy –

But when he thought of that, the image of Kirei flashed in front of Kiritsugu's mental eyes and he inwardly scowled. Nope. Not leaving his Harry to that bastard. Never in a million years.

(Especially not when Harry and Kirei had one angry kitty son to mind about.)

"Huggy." Harry confirmed with a firm nod. "I don't mind but I would like to know where we stand. " Green eyes beseeched Kiritsugu to understand and help him dispel the confusion he had managed to create with his actions.

Kiritsugu never could say no to that kind of begging green eyes, not that Harry had known about it. Which was Kiritsugu's sole salvation. If Harry had known about it and then purposefully used it, then Kiritsugu would be such a goner it wouldn't be even funny.

Kiritsugu rubbed his face, acutely aware of the sharp scent of the gun oil on his fingers. Well, it was all or nothing. And he could only pray that Harry would be his kind, understanding self as to not freak out about Kiritsugu's little secret. Gathering his courage and wishing to be just anywhere but in front of those green eyes, the assassin kind of blurted out his feelings.

"I like you." Three words. Plain and simple.

* * *

Harry's face was confused for all of five seconds, before the comprehension dawned on him.

Not like like, but _like-like_ , the serious kind of like. Feeling his cheeks heating with intense embarrassment, Harry didn't even try to stop himself from hiding his face behind his palms.

This was how mortification felt like. With his guts utterly twisted, wishing that he could've been anywhere but where he was at this particular moment and wondering just what the hell had he done to his life for it to go bonkers on him at the drop of a proverbial hat.

But on the other hand, this explained so many things it wasn't even funny. And where was some kind of a responsible adult to tell him how to tell his friend that he wasn't –

He felt the head on his wrist, and judging by Kiritsugu's flinch, he wasn't the only one to receive the alarm.

Harry's heart just about simultaneously jumped with relief and sank with disappointment in his chest.

Still flushing what he thought was an atomic blush of epic proportions, Harry peered at Kiritsugu through the spaces between his fingers, exasperated at how he managed to notice just how interesting Kiritsugu's eyes were. And hey, was Kiritsugu blushing too? Harry let his hands slide off his face.

 _'_ _Stay calm. Act cool. It will blow over – '_ Harry's inner pep up talk was interrupted by his traitorous mouth speaking out the words Harry sorely wanted to take back as soon as he spoke them.

"This isn't over." Harry bit out as he tried to calm his heartbeat. Kiritsugu hummed as he gave him a sharp nod.

"Agreed."

With the temporary truce on the issue, both of the rushed through the door, intent to find out just what had that kitty bratling done now.

* * *

"And pray tell, just what exactly are you two doing?" The ice cold voice behind Iri's back froze both of the children in their track, two pairs of wide red eyes darting up at the intruder in their little hidey hole.

 _'_ _Maledizione.'_ Xanxus couldn't help but swear in his mind as he comprehended just who was the intruder.

A tall, almost reed thin male clothed in white robes with his hair and beard resembling iced over waterfall, when his eyes, those strangely gleaming cold dark eyes bore daggers in Xanxus' skull. Harry had told Xanxus about him - Jubstacheit von Einzbern, the leader of the Einzbern family.

This man was _dangerous._

"G-Grandfather!" Iri stuttered, her stutter ending with a yelp when Xanxus tugged her behind his back as to keep her away from that strange man.

"You. Why aren't you with your father?" The white haired man addressed her as he made a step forward, causing Ilya to shrink behind Xanxus' back, even if she tried to brave this old man's - her grandfather's? - displeasure at his person.

"Um. I. Wanted to… Play?" She offered softly, her voice wobbling at the end with uncertainty.

Xanxus' teeth clenched to the point of pain.

"Hey, what's that to ya, old man? She's a kid!" He snapped at the so-called old man.

"She is a tool." The old man snapped back. "Irisviel, I don't know how you came to associate with that ruffian, but this ends here and now." He extended his well-manicured hand, obviously expecting Iri to follow his command. Xanxus would of moved aside too - this damn old man was just too intimidating like that, but Iri described as a tool raised his proverbial hackles. He felt Iri's tiny hands clench the fabric on his back

His little sister was nobody's tool, much less of this cray old man!

 ** _"Stay."_** Xanxus commanded her, his eyes glaring at the old man, trying to assess the vulnerable points.

"But – " Iri tried to speak, only for Xanxus's side glare stopping her flat before he looked back at his enemy. Grunting, he tried to calm his heartbeat. His claws were not done by far but if he had done this –

"She is my little sister, you old codger. Not your fucking experiment. "He snapped back at the old man. "So why don't you leave us the fuck alone already!"

Xanxus nudged her back another step.

* * *

Irisviel was scared. No, she was terrified. Her grandfather wanted to take her back and if she went with him, then she would be back to the crushing cold and loneliness pervading that **_[transparent]_** room she had been taken from.

No warmth. No laughter. And her brother would be taken away from her.

"...No." She choked out, fingers trembling on the cool and surprisingly silky fabric of the invisible cloak.

Swordlike white eyebrows on a weathered face raised sharply. "You dare to _defy_ your master?" The old man questioned her harshly, the anger in his voice causing her to flinch. "Remember, you _foolish girl_ \- you were made to be a tool for Winzbern's victory in the oncoming war. Even if I indulged that assistant's foolish question to further educate you in…" His face contorted in a momentary pained grimace before the lines smoothed out in a disdainful glare. "Human indulgences, you are, first and foremost, a tool!" The last word sounded like a thunder in Iri's ears, echoing in her brain.

Tool…

A tool.

Just a tool -

The sparkle in her eyes dulled out, but before she could move ahead to return to her Grandfather, she was roughly shaken, and then, there was Xanxus, screaming into her face.

"Iri! Damn it, Iri, don't listen to that trash!" She opened her mouth, but there was no sound forthcoming from her throat, constricted as it was. .

But her Grandfather was right. At the end of the day, she was just a tool. Her life belonged to Einzberns, to their glorious goal, she was made for a single purpose -

The furious warmth in front of her suddenly encircled her within its arms and oh….

Slowly, Iri blinked.

She knew these arms. This warmth was familiar.

 _Xanxus._ This warmth, this _fury,_ belonged to Xanxus. And now, her big brother was furious on her behalf, enough to backtalk to her Grandfather.

* * *

"Look here you senile old goat! I don't fucking care if you personally assembled her - she is still a person and she ought to be treated as one! You see her as a tool, but I damn well chose her to be _my_ little sister, and if you want her back, you will have to do so over my cold, dead corpse!"

"Senile - !" Never, _ever_ in his long existence was Jubstacheit 'Acht' von Einzbern called senile! The _nerve_ of that meat bag!

"That's enough of your backtalk!" Jubstacheit snapped out, incensed. "Irisviel, come here!" He commanded to his tool, but that damn scruffy brat only held onto his creation even harder.

Jubstacheit wasn't used to anyone disobeying him so plainly. It was either they followed his commands or they were dealt with in a rather… permanent manner. Even the strongest grown up Magi trembled when they just _slightly_ displeased him, and there was this milk-toothed brat, looking at him with those disobedient eyes, and daring to insult him!

"Hell to fucking no!" The brat spat back at him, clutching to Jubstacheit's tool like his life depended on it.

Striding forward, he reached with his arm, intent to manually - oh, the indignity - retrieve his wayward tool.

But before he could touch her, her blank eyes widened and then, she screamed.

 _ **"NO!"**_

A bright light filled the courtyard, whitish green - or was it greenish white with a thunderous noise, deafening all three of them.

* * *

The crash echoed through the castle, causing Harry to blanch at the sound.

It could be likened to an especially strong thunder, but sky was clear and Harry's wristband, which was already hot, became even hotter, causing Harry to choke out a strangled curse, but just as soon as it heated, it also cooled down, causing Harry to wonder if he had just imagined everything.

He flexed his wrist and almost swore again at the pain the usually harmless movement caused him. If he had been running before, right now, he outright _bolted,_ Kiritsugu right beside him.

Both of them stormed past the startled Homunculi, not bothering with scandalous expressions on their faces. What was important right now was to find out the bratty troublemaker and his little white-haired accomplice, assess the damage and deal with repercussions.

The path lead them to the courtyard, to one of the hidden alcoves.

And there were two culprits standing in front of what it seemed to be Jubstacheit's corpse.

* * *

"Oh my fucking _god_." Harry swore emphatically. First Xanxus had smuggled himself into the castle, then they got Iri, and now, the brat actually dared to _kill_ the Einzbern patriarch?

At the rate this was going, Harry was sure his hair would be completely white before this month would be over.

"What did you two do now? And… " He paused when he saw a thing he was almost hundred perfect sure was his invisibility cloak, trembling behind the duo. "What is this?" He pointed at the thing.

The _thing,_ like Harry had called it, was cuddled around the two kids, shaking like a leaf and at Harry's sharp voice, it flinched at first, before it perked up as no violence followed the harsh question.

"Um…" The two kids eyes each other warily. "It's a cloak?" Xanxus questioned, seemingly unfazed that the cloak in question was literally crawling all over him.

"Yes, but last we've seen it, it wasn't so… lively." Kiritsugu tried to be diplomatic. Or at least to hold off his shoot first, ask later reflex that was now severely itching to be used.

"It's an awesome cloak." Xanxus defended. And then, he giggled because the cloak in question emitted something that was very, very similar to purring.

"Yes, yes, it's awesome. Tell me what had happened that our wristbands deemed important enough to almost burn our wrists off, would you?" Harry snarked back as he stepped forward to inspect the two children for any damage.

The two seemed to be alright, even if a little bit shaken, but the cloak's purring was harmless enough of a sound? _Feeling?_ That both of them were more relaxed than Harry had expected them to be after this… explosion, so to speak.

As soon as Harry touched Xanxus, the greyish expanse of cloth apparently decided that Harry would make an awesome perch and relocated to his shoulders, much to Harry's spluttering and the kids' disappointed _aww_ 's.

Harry was enveloped into something that could be best described as feline equivalent of the smoothest, softest cloak he had ever owned. The thing vibrated happily as it snuggled around Harry like a possessive cat, startling a small laugh out of him.

Meanwhile, Kiritsugu knelt beside Jubstacheit's corpse and pressed his fingers against his neck. Frowning as he didn't feel the man's heartbeat, he then placed a finger under the presumably unconscious man's nose. No breath there either.

He raised his head, glaring at the two little culprits balefully.

"Alright. What have you two brats done to him?"

Xanxus scowled as he hugged Iri closer to him. "He called her a tool. If he croaked, well, good for him." He announced callously, disregarding Harry's shocked _"Xanxus!"_ from the side.

Kiritsugu returned the stare with his own bland one. He would not be persuaded with their innocent act. Xanxus was already a hellion, but now he had Iri as his very own enabler on his side, he was almost unstoppable.

"I am right and you know it." Xanxus' mulish expression on his face spoke out clearly that he wouldn't change his mind. Kiritsugu's stare became absolutely flat. "I don't care about your fluffy feelings. What I care about," he waved around them, "Was how this absolute clusterfuck of a situation happened. Now. _Talk."_

Xanxus scowled, but thought better than to try and out-stubborn Kiritsugu. "We were playing questions and answers, and the _cazzo_ surprised us." He aimed a heated glare at the downed white-haired man. "He wasn't happy that I was there - "

"You practically _infiltrated_ the building, he wouldn't be happy either way." Harry interrupted him, earning a small glare from his kitty son. _"Then,"_ Xanxus continued, his voice a little louder as if trying to drown out Harry's caustic remark "He said that Iri was his tool and to come with him away from me."

"Mhm." Kiritsugu nodded thoughtfully. He was surprised the brat hadn't begun cussing out the old man… Yet. "Iri was scared and I was angry and then he reached for Iri to take her away from me and Iri screamed and there was this glowy white-green light. Next thing I know was that he keeled over. Just like that." Xanxus finished his report in one breath.

"Glowy white-green light?" Harry asked sharply, batting the edge of the cloak nuzzling his cheek away.

"Yes!" Xanxus' grin was all too wide to be happy. It was more on a vindictive side now.

"And you didn't do _anything?"_ Harry asked him suspiciously. It was kind of unbelievable that there was this mess, and Xanxus not participating in it. Xanxus scratched his head. "Um, Well…" He hedged, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. _"Well?"_ Harry repeated, his voice dry as he exchanged an exasperated glance with Kiritsugu.

"I may have tried to add a _tiny,_ really itty-bitty amount of my own Flames." Xanxus admitted sheepishly.

"And of course, in the process you two somehow played Frankenstein, only without corpses but still managed to somehow animate _this_." Harry concluded grumpily as he spread his arms, the cloak holding onto him for its dear life, causing him to look like real life version of a big, humanized bat. And then, Kiritsugu emitted a long-suffering _'I-can't-believe-that's-my-life'_ groan.

"Harry." Kiritsugu called to his friend, prompting the three of them to zero their attention to the Magus Killer. "It's more than that. Whatever Iri had done, it took whatever consisted for a soul in old Acht and then used it to reanimate the cloak." He pointed at the said cloak accusingly, making it tremble on Harry's shoulders. Harry lowered his arms.

 _"_ _What."_ Harry was decidedly unimpressed. "You are telling me that I have a _Jubstacheit_ on my shoulders?" He tried to tug the cloak off his shoulders, only for the thing to outright curl around him and - was that a _whimper?_

"G-Grandpa?" Iri ventured hesitantly, her big eyes looking at the squirming thing on Harry's shoulders.

The cloak waved at her with its right corner, causing her to squeal and hide behind Xanxus' back. Both Harry and Xanxus stared. "Well. It's definitely friendlier than that old bastard." Xanxus commented.

Harry didn't bother to correct him. The cloak, now reassured it was safe for the time being, began to purr again. However was it doing that, it was a mystery to Harry, considering that the thing didn't have any vocal cords to speak of.

"So I am good? Not bad?" Harry softened at Iri's hopeful question. It was hard to imagine she was nothing more than a doll right now when she was so very scared and on the verge of tears.

He knelt down, spreading his arms again, and after a moment of hesitation, he was almost bowled over by a little girl curling into him and crying her little heart out while he shushed and soothed her the best way he knew how, the cloak carefully wiping off her tears.

* * *

The four of them plus their newest addition hightailed it out back to their rooms (Xanxus still under the cloak, even with it being sentient it still retained its function of invisibility), with Harry ordering one of the maids to find Jubstacheit because new developments had come into play.

The maid nodded dutifully and walked away to fulfill the order, leaving them to their devices.

Iri was fascinated with her newest friend. It was warm, snuggly and it loved to cuddle! So of course it had to have a name!

Harry didn't want to have anything with naming it. Though he firmly vetoed Kiritsugu's suggestion to call it Jubby, no matter how… appropriate the name could be considering the… ahem, circumstances.

"If you ask me, it's more like a Tribble," He refuted Kiritsugu. "It purrs. It growls. Thankfully, it doesn't have the breeding habits of its namesakes." The cloak perked from its perch on Iri's shoulders and head, obviously interested in the proceedings.

"Oh for…" Kiritsugu had to face palm. "You want to name that thing after imaginary creatures from _Star Trek?"_ He shook his head as he looked at Harry. _"Why?_ Jubby is a perfectly reasonable name!"

Harry shook his head. "I just commented on its characteristics." He defended. "I don't care about naming it - " The cloak-thingy wilted, causing Iri to squeal as it accidentally covered her eyes. "For all I know it could be like Leithfold, what with how huggy it is."

Thankfully without meat-eating properties.

"That is a fucking awesome name!" Xanxus perked, enthused, before yelping as the cloak downed him on the floor, causing Iri to giggle at his misfortune.

"So I will take that as a no." Harry deadpanned, the cloak purring louder. "Such a Tribble you are." He addressed the cloak, which purred even louder.

Harry paused, his eyebrows arching in a mild disbelief. Because, really?

Xanxus finally managed to get from under the cloak, the expression on his face deliciously horrified. _"Tribble!?"_ He yelped "You just can't name it like that! It's an awesome cloak and deserves a fucking awesome name like that Leith- thingy!" He proclaimed, only for the cloak to growl at him and dunk him onto the floor again.

There was a small scuffle when Xanxus tried to get out from the cloak's underside, but the thing apparently had some wrestling abilities, effortlessly keeping seething Xanxus firmly on the ground while it nipped at his messy hair in disapproval.

Both Harry and Kiritsugu looked at the brat's fight with the piece of enchanted fabric with amusement. The cloak didn't even have any _muscles_ to speak of, and it was still winning.

"Leithfold?" Harry asked, causing the cloak to bristle and growl. "Well, you know what, Xanxus? If you can pronounce this correctly, then you can name it however you want, what about that? You have three tries." He offered to Xanxus, who eyed him warily, as if expecting Harry was playing a cruel prank on him. But seeing Harry's serious face, he relaxed and gave him a fanged grin.

"You are _so_ on."

"So say it." Harry challenged him, causing Xanxus to frown as he tried to remember how to pronounce the word.

"Leith-thing?" He tried. There was a growl above his head and then, the cloak gave him a noogie.

"Leithfol - _mmph!"_ Xanxus almost had it, but then, there was this darned piece of fabric sneaking across his lips and muffling him. Growling, he snapped at the cloak, only to blink when that piece morphed into a crude version of a mouth and gave him a… raspberry?

"Hey! I am fighting for you here, you - " He growled at the cloak-that-didn't-want-to-be-named-by-him.

"Last chance, Xanxus." Harry called out to him.

 _"_ _Fine!"_ Xanxus grumped at him. "Just take that fucking saboteur away from me!"

Harry didn't budge. "Are you saying that you can be bested by a _cloak,_ of all things?" He queried back, entertained.

"Kirei would love to know that." Kiritsugu chimed in, grinning. Xanxus scowled at the both of them. Fine! Fine, he would play their game and beat them in it!

"Leith _-fooooool!"_ The second part of the unfortunate word was drowned - literally, as he was completely smothered by the fabric nuisance.

He heard muffled laughter from the outside and he blushed. Even Iri was gigging at him, that little traitor!

And then, he was being tumbled around, the fabric twisting and turning until he was finally allowed to breath the air, even if he was bound like mummy.

The laughter increased. Iri's bright giggles floated in the air like bubbles of light. Xanxus' thunderous scowl didn't help the matters either. "You are all a bunch of assholes! How dare you to sabotage my awesome naming skills! I demand a rematch!" He announced to his audience, but his little family was too busy laughing to take offence to the insult hurled at them.

Thus the recently sentient cloak was named Tribble, and much to Xanxus' dismay, the name was here to stay, no matter how much he tried to persuade (or threaten) the, ahem, _Tribble_ , to change its name.

* * *

 ** _Scribble_**

 _The Great Skull-sama had a problem._

 _Surprisingly, this problem was not Reborn-shaped. In fact, the 'problem' we are talking about was not even_ human _. Not that its lack of humanity made it any less of a problem. In Skull's not so humble opinion, it made it all the more fearsome._

 _He stared at his little_ 'problem' _while he tried to cautiously back away from it, desperately trying not to look like he was fleeing from the damn thing. Honestly, it was kind of_ humiliating _for the Immortal Skull-sama, the one even Death hated, to be terrified from one itty bitty cloak of all things. Even if the cloak in question was, ahem, sentient._

 _Skull didn't have problem with Leon's aka Reborn's Biggest Cheat. Noo, nope, no problem, even if the thing could change into a hammer weighing a ton in order for Reborn to play whack-a-mole with Skull. But Skull would admit that he would prefer 'playing' with Reborn than being on this damn cloak-masquerading thing's menu._

 _The cloth of the cloak wriggled into a surprisingly hungry grin, while two empty sockets expressed all the malice of a hungry lion on the prowl. And much to Skull's dread, the thing slinked closer to him - much, much closer than he would've liked it to be._

 _And yes, he would deny to the hell and heaven and back that he didn't_ squeak _. It was a threatening_ growl, _dammit!_

 _"_ _G-Get away from the Great Skull-sama, you fabric-made menace!" He growled - squeaked, really- at the thing, his legs feeling like a jelly._

 _The terrifying cloth made an innocent face as if saying '_ Who,me? It's just your imagination, human. You know you _love_ me, really.'

 _And oh my dear_ god _, were those_ fangs?

 _Skull was a hairsbreadth away from unceremoniously fainting, soiling his pants or both._

 _Any time now - !_

 _The cloak lunged forward, and Skull emitted an ear-piercing screech as he danced out of the thing's reach, and it seemed that the luck was on his side today, because someone had yanked the Thing back by its 'tail', making it cringe before it whipped around and bristle at his savior._

 _Skull's savior was a little girl. She was an adorable angel, sent from Heaven to save the Great Skull-sama! She was dressed in a simple sea-foam green dress that enhanced the white of her long hair trailing down her back and her eyes were like two precious rubies, filled with warmth and innocence._

 _The little cherub was outing at the beast she got a hold of in her tiny hands, making the said 'beast' wrinkle it's folds in dismayed chagrin, like it wasn't about to eat Skull, but was just a harmless little cloth._

"Tribble!" _The little cherub's heavenly voice was a balsam to Skull's ears. She was his little Goddess, surely. Skull's heart was just about floating in his chest with gratitude as he looked at the little Goddess adoringly. Skull would make her an altar and worship her and - "No! You don't know where he has been!" She pouted at the so-called '_ Tribble' _, causing it to appear chastened - if that evil excuse of a cloak could ever appear to be chastened._

 _Skull's previously floating little heart was broken into hundred pieces. "_ Hey! _I resent that remark!" He pouted at his savior, stubbornly crossing his arms on his chest._

 _"_ _You mean you_ resemble _it, you trash." Someone sneered behind him, causing Skull to screech as he jumped in the air with fright._

 _"_ _Y-You!" Turning around, he stuttered as he pointed at the little devil who was glaring at him with a shaky finger. If the white-haired girl was all that was good and innocent in the world, then this boy was surely Satan's spawn, born solely to torment Skull with his continuous existence._

 _"_ _Me what?" The brat sneered at him, causing Skull to cautiously step back from the little monster. "You are afraid of a cloak._ Honestly." _The rude brat snorted at him, making Skull bristle in annoyance._

 _"_ _T-The Great Skull-sama is not afraid of cloaks! This is a lie!_ Lie, _I tell you!" " Skull turned his soulful violet eyes to the little goddess. "You know that, don't you, Iri-chan?" He beseeched her, looking like a like puppy for all he was worth._

 _Iri giggled. "Of course I do, Skull-chan." She affectionately petted the cloak monster which made a disturbingly hungry leer at Skull when Iri didn't watch it, and when Iri looked at it again, it's 'facial' features were once again innocently adoring. Skull's jaw dropped with disbelief. That - that two-faced dish rag! How dare it try and act so innocent!_

 _As if it could hear Skull's less than respectable thoughts, the cloak swiftly turned around and jumped, it's 'face' contorting into a soundless roar. Iri's eyes grew huge with surprise, as she didn't expect the usually docile cloak react so violently as it ripped itself out of her loosened hold._

 _Skull screeched as he tripped when trying to avoid it._

 _(Okay, Xanxus had a grudge against the violet-haired clown-like stuntman. (Skull was fucking_ loud. _And wimp. And coward. And did Xanxus mention that Skull was way too fucking_ **loud?** _) He tripped him.)_

 _"_ _Tribble!_ NO!"

 _Xanxus' grin grew to unholy proportions. Honestly, he looked less like a child and more like a demon spawn at this moment. All he missed were horns and a forked tail, really._

 _"GAAAAH!"_

 _"_ _Give him hell, trash!"_

 _(When it came to ganging on Great Skull-sama, both Xanxus and Tribble had a terrible habit to make a ceasefire and become the best frenemies ever. in that instance, Tribble gleefully obeyed Xanxus' order like they were the holiest of gospel, much to Skull's terror and Iri's dismay.)_


	28. Chapter 28

_**Disclaimer:**_ No, not owning the characters or song. Story, however, is with me.

 _ **Shout out:**_ Memo to myself: next time, no stockpiling two projects in the same time slot. _**Just.**_ _ **Don't.**_ So. Sleep-deprived, on a never-ending reading and writing binge and sorely regretting I am primarily tea-drinker. Some dastardly espresso-lover who shall not be named spotted the unintended weak point in my armor and here we go. _Kaboom._ If you have any good song, send me suggestions. Good songs mean more chapters. Finders will be credited. And yes, name change is intentional ( _a tiny spoiler_.)

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on a multiple scales ( _help_ ), things are definitely changing and Fon is evil. Or evil-ish. Xanxus also gets a head start on corrupting his future subordinates. (Because why not?)

* * *

 _Wait, it's just about to break, its more than I can take,  
Everything's about to change,  
I feel it in my veins, it's not going away,  
Everything's about to change,  
It's just about to break, its more than I can take,  
Everything's about to change,  
I feel it in my veins, it's not going away,  
Everything's about to change._

( _'War Of Change'_ , by _Thousand Foot Krutch_ )

* * *

Timoteo di Vongola was not a stupid man.

He may have not been lauded as a genius, but thanks to his intuition he was at least a little bit more smarter than his peers - enough to lead the enormous organization that was Vongola _Famiglia_ through the years. Yes, there were losses - some were extremely bitter, and there were some wins - some amazing, some just by the skin of their teeth.

Vongola had prospered under his guidance - maybe not outright flourished like it had under Daniela, his mother and Vongola _Octava,_ but it was feared and respected by any and all, bar some like Vindice. But that was alright because Vindice were a law unto themselves. Even Vongola had to bow their heads in front of them - not that it was hard to do, what with Vindice being utterly impartial in all and any affairs pertaining to mafia. If you were guilty, you were guilty. If you were innocent, you were innocent.

Timoteo di Vongola was not a stupid man and because he was also a cautious man, he took the precautions in securing his _Famiglia's_ position in the criminal underworld.

So it had been a kind of a shock when he had listened to some semi-crazy woman claiming that her brat was a Vongola. No one within the criminal underworld was crazy enough to claim that, considering that this kind of claim would've made an instant target on their backs - both for Vongola and Vongola's enemies. Not exactly an enviable position to be in.

He would've dismissed her claims, if not for one tiny little tidbit.

* * *

Claudio di Vongola, his older twin brother. The rightful successor to the Vongola's bloody throne. Claudio was serious and responsible, almost to the point of being grim. But some seven years before, Claudio changed, He became - for the lack of better word - brighter, more animated and at times, serene and wistful. Nobody - not even his Guardians - knew what had changed, but… it was _good_. It had to be good to make Timoteo's anal-retentive of a big brother bend down to the lever of the rest of mere mortals, if only just a little.

Maybe more than _just_ a little. Claudio became soft, _careless,_ and this was not good for the head of _famiglia,_ especially not for one such as Vongola. Timoteo tried to warn him that whatever he was doing would be bad for their _Famiglia,_ but Claudio didn't listen.

Timoteo nearly got a heart attack when he got the report that Claudio was vanishing off in one of the seedier parts of the towns just to visit some plain-faced woman he apparently fancied.

Every time Claudio had returned, he had that blissful, yet forlorn expression on his face, which irritated Timoteo something fierce. He had to substitute for his brother so that the _bastardo_ in question could get his weekly fix of that wench? Timoteo got a headache just thinking about the sheer amounts of paperwork he had to slough through to keep their _Famiglia_ abreast - despite Vongola being the strongest, there was always some danger lurking in the darkness.

 _Unacceptable._

Thus, Timoteo had resorted to... ah, _drastic_ measures.

It had been almost pathetically easy to arrrange an accident so that Claudio fell in a death trap.

When the news of Claudio being assassinated came, Timoteo acted just as shaken and shocked than anyone else.

But even he didn't expect that Claudio's injuries were so grievous that instead of falling into short coma he had succumbed to death.

The results of his little 'lesson' to his big brother turned out for the very worst. In one fell swoop, not only was Timoteo inundated with all of Claudio's paperwork, but was also forced to take up his brother's Guardians and don on the unwanted mantle of the _don_ of Vongola. He still remembered his mother's teary face when the small vase with Claudio's ashes was placed into the grave.

 _Guilty._ He was guilty of this, guilty of tearing his family apart. The age old adage of all roads with good attention leading to hell was so very true it left the bitter taste of ashes in his mouth.

He ascended like dutiful son - nobody outside the closest of family had known of Timoteo's existence, and Claudio was kind of quirky enough to use his little brother's name in lieu of his own, the bastard, so the switch was done without much of a fuss. Anyone who said or thought differently was violently suppressed. This was Vongola's - no, _Timoteo's_ dirty secret, and he intended to take it into his grave.

* * *

And seven years later, there was this Fiamma wench who dared to ensnare his brother, claiming that she got his kid. Moreover, this kid was supposed to be a _Sky._

Illegitimate heirs were always a headache. If anyone found out that there was an illegitimate heir to Vongola on the loose, the fallout from it would be _immense._ Not only he would have successor war with legitimate heirs on his hands, but all other _Famiglias_ would join in, trying to get the kid on their side. A nightmare in its truest sense.

Claudio was _terrifying_ when using his Flames, Timoteo knew that much from his own experience. And if the blood ran true - who was Timoteo trying to _kid_ , of _course_ it did - then that little child would be _extremely_ powerful in his own right. If he was allowed to grow up, of course.

Closing his eyes, Timoteo steeled his resolve.

 _'_ _Famiglia before family.'_

And if that meant he had to cull a pair of civilians, well. He already had the blood of his brother on his hands. This little sin would be tiny in comparison to keeping the whole _Famiglia_ stable for a little bit longer.

* * *

Elegant black eyebrow arched at the Chinese martial artist clad in red _cheongsam_. Reborn didn't exactly count Fon as his friend, but the man was valuable ally and with them being grouped in the so called group of World's Strongest, it was kind of hard to just ignore him.

Reborn was idly leaning against the nearby fir tree, while Fon was meditating on a small, knee-high boulder, his legs twisted in a pretzel and eyes closed, while a small smile of contentment hovered on the corners of his mouth.

At least Fon wasn't as annoying as that purple-obsessed lackey. Honestly, Reborn wondered where Checkerface had dragged that riffraff out from, because surely, _surely_ there _had_ to be someone stronger than this - this whiny little baby of a civilian?

But...his sight flickered back to Fon. The Chinese martial artist was in an unusual good mood lately and Reborn had grown increasingly curious of the reason, along with Fon's disappearances to who-knew-where when they weren't required to either attend the missions or in some of Luce's stupid team-building exercises in order to make them function better.

(It was all Skull's fault. Strongest Cloud or not, they would have functioned just _fine_ without this comedic disaster on two legs. What was Checkerface even _thinking,_ really?)

"You are in an unusually good mood lately." he remarked, prompting Fon to open his eyes to look at him.

He got a blink in return, but Fon nodded. "I am." The martial artist admitted, his previously semi-hidden smile brightening a bit, while his eyes remained half-lidded.

Both of them were on a semi-circular glade in the nearby forest. The glade already bore marks of an intense scuffle, and there was a heavy feeling of Storm Flames hanging in the air, like a dissipating charge of ozone after a strong storm.

If Reborn hadn't known better, he would've thought this was Fon's usual private training ground. But… Slender eyebrows scrunching, Reborn's eyes narrowed in thought.

He wasn't gifted with sensing Flames, but as Sun, he was sensitive enough to at least discern some notions between them. And this there, was not only Fon's flame, but also another one.

"Sparring partner?" He hummed, his interest piqued. Judging by Fon's almost shark like smirk, before it smoothed out into his usual serene smile. But Reborn wasn't fooled by Fon's serene appearance - even as still as he was, Fon was excited about something and that was _Fon_ , so whatever he was excited about had to be something really interesting.

"Baby dragon," Fon acknowledged and Reborn blinked, dumbfounded. He knew many things, but the last one he would've expected Fon to say was _'baby dragon'_. If he hadn't known better, Reborn would've bet that Fon had drunk one pot of his special tea too much.

 _"_ _Baby_ dragon?" He parroted, amused. Tilting his head, he closed his eyes to enjoy the sun hitting his face. "That's a high praise, coming from you."

"Um-hm." Fon nodded thoughtfully. "I've met him in one of those underground fights." He elaborated, his eyes distant as he reminisced about the evening. "It was like seeing dragon swimming among the carps."

Reborn hummed. "Mafia?"

Fon laughed at hitman's question. "Ah, no. I believe he is… how do you say it,...a priest."

That made Reborn tilt his head down as he looked at his partner incredulously. "A _priest?_ " He asked, amused. "Isn't that lot kind of pious and preaching no violence? Your luck is surely something to find the sole bloodthirsty one in that lot." Fon chuckled at Reborn's all too apt question.

 _'_ _You don't know half of it.'_ Fon thought to himself, amused.

"Ah, yes. It had been a fortuitous meeting, surely engineered by Heavens themselves." Fon allowed himself a grin, enjoying Reborn's momentary look of surprise at expression on his face. It wasn't often that he got to surprise World's Greatest Hitman and he intended to milk this occasion for all it was worth.

"Baby **dragon**. Who is a _priest."_ Reborn mumbled, pushing his fedora on his eyes. "Now I believe I've seen it all."

"I believe I am still human, no matter what Fon says." A voice just a step on his right said, and Reborn swore as he hurriedly snapped out his gun, leveling it at the completely unremarkable guy in a priest's garb who lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at his late reaction.

Fon couldn't help himself. He exploded in laughter. Seeing the baby dragon, calmly looking at the freaked out Greatest Hitman was surely worth all of Triads' treasury! He forcibly quietened his giggles, hiccuping as Reborn aimed his glower at him.

 _"_ _Ni hao_ , Kirei." Fon stifled a giggle behind his hand, not even ruffled at Reborn's look of retribution. "It's good to see you looking well. How was your visit of Mafia Land?"

Reborn emitted a sound akin to that of a dying cat. Of course, calling it a screech would be impolite, but it was close enough to it to count in Fon's not so humble opinion.

He would never, _ever_ let Reborn to live it down. And judging by Reborn's glare on his person, the hitman knew that as well. Discreetly, Fon wiped a corner of his eye before schooling his face the best he could.

"I've sent my colleague." Kirei's answer was crisp and to the point as he made a small bow to now flabbergasted Fon. "Thank you for your kindness, this one is in your debt."

"Wait, what?" Reborn was at a loss. " _You_ are a priest." He pointed with gun at the said priest who nodded in confirmation, his strange forked eyebrows quirking in askance. _"You_ sent him to _Mafia Land_ of all places. _What_ gives?" He demanded, eyebrow twitching as he jabbed in Fon's direction with accusing pointer finger.

"A good fight?" Now even Fon sounded uncertain. He eyed the unrepentant priest warily. How could've have known that this baby dragon would've taken an advantage of his goodwill so callously. So shameless, ah.

"A good _fight!?"_ Reborn's eyebrows were now arched in disbelief. "Whoever you've sent to Mafia Island is now under strict orders to be apprehended because they rejected a Sky, caused an unrest among the prospective Elements and then waltzed off like it was the most normal thing in the world!" He jabbed the muzzle in the middle of priest's chest, disregarding Fon's noise of alarm at his calluous action. "What the fuck do you have to say for yourself now?"

Kirei was still calm as a cucumber. "For myself? Nothing." He shrugged. "I fail to see why are so concerned. There was no harm done, and Kuzuki was not armed."

Kuzuki was not armed. Truth.

But assassins didn't need to be armed, for they were weapons in and of themselves. Also truth.

And Kuzuki was the best among the best. Having him go on that island was in essence sending a fox into the coop full of chickens.

"A small grace." Reborn grunted, finally allowing himself to move gun back to the holster, much to Fon's relief.

"He was a civilian." Kirei helpfully added, causing the hitman to choke and Fon just had to face palm. _'Pour even more oil to a fire, why don't you?'_ It was Fon's turn to be exasperated.

"A _civilian."_ Reborn's voice was curiously flat. _"Fon_. Did you know about that?" He jerked his chin to martial artist who shook his head. "But I _did_ know that Kirei here is also a civilian."

Reborn was now on the verge of exploding. Verbally or physically, it didn't matter.

This was a gross overstepping of the sacred rules of Mafia and those two behaved like it was just some harmless little line-trodding!

 _'_ _Well, if you can't stop them, join them'_ , was Fon's uncharitable thought. Besides, it was kind of funny to see Reborn so incensed. That was mafia, so why would it concern Fon in any way? If that had been Triads, on the other hand…

"You have _five_ seconds to explain it to me why did you do something foolish enough to most likely attract Vindice's attention on your moronic head." Reborn's voice was now deathly quiet, causing Fon to still. They had gone too far. And Fon being Greatest Storm or not, Reborn wouldn't care if it was to keep the secret of Flames from so-called civilian priest and his friend.

This was, excuse the pun, the silence before the storm.

"My friend is a Sky and he is ill." The priest spoke out, his voice calm and unhurried as if he was talking about weather.

Reborn paused.

 _Goddamit._

And judging by Fon's expression, this Sky was _also_ a civilian and…

"You've bonded with him?" He asked, carefully masking his irritation and jealousy. Those blank brown eyes staring into his own seriously creeped him out. It was like this priest was just a human-sized doll and Reborn suppressed a shudder. He never did well with that sort of people. It was like they were living corpses - uncaring about everything and all the more dangerous for it. And if Fon was interested enough to call this young man a _baby dragon_ of all things, then this… Kirei person was thrice as dangerous.

And if he had a _Sky…_

Reborn forced himself not to gulp. Appearances were everything, after all. And -

"Yes." A single word answer just about gutted Reborn's facade of indifference, causing him to frown for a second before his face smoothed itself out.

 _What did that priest have that Reborn didn't?_

Sometimes being lauded the strongest in the world also had it's bad points.

"Tch. How _stupid."_ He muttered, leaning back against the tree and pulling the fedora deeper on his face as he forced his body to relax. "And I suppose you knew that too." He addressed Fon, the damned bleeding heart, tiredly, not even twitching at the muffled acknowledgement.

* * *

Fon's strange friend was… _strange_ , Kirei thought when he carefully observed the fedora wearing man after he had Fon got in their usual bout of sparring. Both of them refrained themselves from using Flames, and in Kirei's case, Black Keys, but the spar had been extremely satisfying nonetheless.

The hitman's eyes also held a grudging respect toward Kirei after seeing him in action, and even a smidge of interest. But Kirei didn't care about that. He cared about the man's Flames.

He had already known that Fon had Storm flames - it was hard not to, what with having been confronted with multitude of his Storm Dragons in that fight club, but Fon's strange friend - Reborn, was it? - had the same flames as Kirei. Well, half of them, at any rate.

"You said your friend was ill." Reborn hummed, with Fon sending Kirei an apologetic glance for his colleague's...rudeness. Because it was kind of rude to just jump in and ask such sensitive question.

Kirei, on the other hand, didn't mind. "Yes."

Another hum. "So how, pray tell, did you get that insane idea that the Dying Will Flames could help him?" Slender fingers idly played with a blade of grass, Reborn seemingly unconcerned that he was being extremely rude.

He was elegantly sitting on the boulder, while the two martial artists were sprawled on the ground, both of them still panting harshly from their little sparring exercise. Frankly, Reborn was amazed that the forest surrounding them was still in one piece. The spar that had raged in the clearing five minutes prior was akin to seeing two natural disasters in human skins trying to destroy each other the best way they knew how.

It had been terrifying and awe inspiring sight. Reborn had known that Fon was peerless when it came to martial arts, and seeing someone to match him blow by blow, even if it was obvious that Kirei was still several notches below Fon's level, was more than amazing. Even if both of them were clearly holding back what with Fon not using those Storm Dragons of his and this priest wasn't your run of the mill usual priest either, but Reborn couldn't guess what kind of weapon he had.

If that Kirei's friend was just _half_ as talented as Kirei, then it was no fucking _wonder_ Kirei felt confident enough to leave him the task of gathering more info about Flames on Mafia Island.

"What did you find about the Flames?" Short and to the point. Reborn didn't like wasting time, and moreover, he was curious about that mysterious Sky which had apparently managed to pull Kirei of all people in their orbit.

The priest shrugged. "Basic information, more or less. Seven Flames, Sky is the chief one, with the rest of them following and protecting the wielder of the Sky Flame. Mafia is also extremely guarded about their existence for some reason, even if they can crop among civilians, though such occasions are rare. Are you offering more?" He volleyed back, eyeing the hitman from the corner of his eye.

"If you tell me about your Sky." Reborn's answer caused Fon to choke on a lungful of air. Coughing, Fon sat up as he glared at the unrepentant hitman. "Reborn,that was uncalled for!" He managed to get out before coughing again.

"You started first, you have no room to say that to me." Reborn rebuked the Chinese martial artist mildly, earning a reproachful glare in return, but Fon kept his silence like Reborn knew he would. He turned his gaze at the priest stiffened form. "Well? Your info for my info or what?"

Glaring, Kirei acquiesced to the order.

 _'_ _This is for Harry.'_ He told himself, carefully loosening his muscles. _'You could always kill him later, when Harry is okay. '_

Reborn's eyes flashed as Kirei for the moment looked like he would attack the hitman, but against Reborn's expectations - or in line with them - the priest's body loosened and those creepily empty brown eyes stared into his own black one.

"What do you want to know?"

Fon kept silent. As shameful as it was, he too was curious of Kirei's Sky.

* * *

 ** _Scribble_**

 _Squalo was a child. Squalo was a child prodigy. Meaning Squalo, in all of his 8-year old glory definitely didn't want to listen to his tutors more than it was absolutely necessary._

 _Despite him having completed all of their fucking exercises they loaded him with - and there was a lot of them, Squalo's hand was still having cramps from writing all those essays, tests and whatnot - whoever the fuck had a_ bright _idea to invent calligraphy handwriting ought to be shot and quartered and made to drink milk, not necessarily in that order, but the fact was, those ancient fogeys had overstepped their bounds and Squalo wanted his shot of blessedly sweet freedom Right. Fucking._ Now. _He_ earned _it, dammit, and the semi-tallish white-haired child scowled at his twitching left hand._

 _He managed to sneak out after he successfully negotiated - read: lobbed signor Monterosso's fat head and sent him into kingdom of unconsciousness via baseball bat - and was now free as a bird for, if there was any justice in the world, at least an hour or two before he was to be dragged back to that place of torture under the deceptively innocent name of study room._

 _"_ _Master Squalo!"_

Shit. _Paling, Squalo silently cursed to himself. He'd swear those_ bastardi _had to be part bloodhounds what with them sniffling him out so easily._

 _But no, Superbia Squalo won't be going down without a fight. Clenching his teeth and silently growling to himself, he ducked away from their eyesight._

 _Xanxus was suffering - okay, indulging his_ sorellina's _whims. This time, Iri wanted an enormously big ice cream, despite Harry forbidding her. When she turned her soulful eyes at Kiritsugu, she didn't have any success, either, and as such, the newest - and successful - victim to her scheme was one Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine himself. Well, him and his meager allowance._

 _Xanxus would've cried the tears of blood, what with having to shell out two thirds of his recently accumulated loot to satiate Iri's insane appetite for the cold wonder that was ice cream. But looking at his_ sorellina's _beaming face, he decided it was somehow alright. Iri was his little sister, so that had to be alright… somehow. Big Bro's prerogative and all that._

 _"_ _So there you are, you little brat!" A harsh voice sounded from his right, preceding the rail thin man with a hawk-like nose and black beady eyes clothed in what seemed to be a butler's uniform. The Beady-Eyed Butler then reached for oblivious Iri, yanking at her collar and causing her to release Xanxus' hard-paid for ice cream cone with a small shriek of fear and surprise._

"Sei cazzo! _What the fuck do you_ think _you are doing with my little sister!" Xanxus barked, bristling out in anger._

 _The butler eyed him with his beady eyes disdainfully."Zip it, brat! I don't know how much did that howling menace pay you to play a big brother" he sneered at the last two words "but it's over! And you!" He barked at Iri who shrunk back at his sharp voice. "When you get back you will be leashed to hard you will feel it for_ days!" _Another sharp yank caused Iri to scream with pain, but the butler did not heed it. On the contrary, his eyes gleamed with sadistic glee._

 _Xanxus lost it._

 _"_ _VOIII! THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING, MISTAKING ANOTHER BRAT FOR ME!? ARE YOU_ **BLIND** _NOW AS WELL AS DEAF, YOU ASSHOLE!"_

 _Both of the sibling's ears were pierced by the loud sound, making them cringe at the sheer volume of the voice._

 _The originator of the sound was a white-haired boy - half a head taller than Xanxus, clad in black shorts with white long-sleeved shirt and an extremely pissed off expression on his face as he ran toward Iri's captor._

 _"_ _You heard him, now let my sister go!" Xanxus didn't let the opportunity slide past him as he surged forward and kicked the man in the nuts, causing him to emit a pained squeal and crash on the knees while simultaneously releasing his_ sorellina.

 _Xanxus, the little bastard he was, took the advantage of the man's temporary disability._

 _Or tried to. He had been overtaken by a wooden sword crashing on the ex-captor's head, sending the rude man into the land of dreams as surely as if it was made out from stone._

 _Not that Xanxus allowed himself time to marvel at the sight – but inwardly, he had to admit to himself that it was kind of awesome._

 _"_ _Iri, you alright?" He instead chose to ask his little sister, his voice a little gruff. Not shaky. Never shaky, because Xanxus was a man and men didn't have shaky voices._

 _"_ _I – " Iri tried to speak_

 _"_ _Voi! Hey, twerp!" The loud one interrupted her. "Yes, you with messy black hair!"_

 _Oh, those were fighting words, weren't they?_

 _Xanxus stiffened and his eyes gained their characteristic red glare which was a telling sign that someone was about to be crushed._

 _"_ **What,** _you howler monkey?" He spat out, growling. "Wanna die?"_

 _The so-called 'howler monkey' blinked, taken aback. There was no one to talk to him like that and he kind of liked it._

 _It was always "Master Squalo" this or "Master Squalo" that, those fucking bootlickers apparently thought him too dumb to know that he was being called demon brat and all variants of it thereof behind his back._

 _Even kids older than him treated him with some kind of… urgh,_ respect. _Squalo mentally grimaced at the word. Same shit, different day, and it was getting on the_ last _of his nerves._

 _But this little brat in front of him, who had kicked that Monterosso dick into his 'nads and Squalo was totally sure the self-same midget would rip him a new one if Squalo hadn't heroically interfered via boinking Monterosso's already overly egg-shaped head into unconsciousness._

 _(A part of Squalo kind of regretted his premature interference, because the resulting fight would've been_ **glorious** _.)_

 _Squalo's lips stretched into a wide grin that was eerily similar to one of a great white shark, causing the midget to glare at him even harder, while midget's midget sister looked at him with her wide ruby eyes, unsure of Squalo's intentions._

 _(it kind of baffled Squalo how could Monterosso mistake her for him, what with Squalo sporting a short messy cut and being whole head and a quarter taller than her, never mind little kitten being clothed in pink knee-length dress with white and purple butterflies printed on the fabric. Honestly,_ how?)

 _"_ _Hey, I like you. Wanna be friends?"_

 _The expression on dark-haired little midget's face was_ priceless.


	29. Chapter 29

_**Disclaimer:**_ I Don't Own These Characters.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Sorry for a blackout, was in transit between jobs and it was hectic. Not to mention all that furor around Christmas and it's a complete wonder I manage to get out a chapter or two.

Anyway! Some of you asked me to do the England side of things, so here you go. From here on, updates will be sporadic, but hopefully I will manage to get out something around Christmas at the latest.

 _ **Warnings:**_ Revelations, Snape Got A Twilight - ahem, Spotlight, and England is in a deep doo-doo.

* * *

 _For want of a nail the shoe was lost.  
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.  
For want of a horse the rider was lost.  
For want of a rider the message was lost.  
For want of a message the battle was lost.  
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.  
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail._

 _(Unknown)_

* * *

"The very words you've said mean that it's _very_ necessary to find out what bad thing had the wolfie here done this time. And considering he had so many, many bad moons, we can expect some _very_ interesting bits." Sirius crowed, now grinning like a death reaper himself.

"Bastard." A simple word out of the usually mild-mannered man had everyone astonished. Because Mr. Remus Lupin didn't curse. Never. It was like written in the laws of universe or something.

"My mummy and daddy were sadly married, Moon-Moon. I would prefer to be a true-blue bastard, but we can't have everything we want now, do we? Now. _What. Have. You. Done?"_

A strained silence had fallen between the room's occupants as they stared at the two old friends who now seemed to be more of an enemies than anything else.

Remus Lupin was a gentle man. What could he have done for _Sirius_ of all people to accuse him so brazenly, disregarding their ages old friendship?

Grey eyes, more akin to a burning steel or freezing quicksilver bore into the faintly yellowish ones.

"C'mon puppy. Don't tell me you are being afraid of a little old me now?"

The sole Black goaded the werewolf, inciting a snarl of frustration from the man.

Witnesses flinched or backed away cautiously. It was never a good idea to intentionally frustrate a werewolf, even if they were as tame and calm as one R.J. Lupin.

Right now there weren't any of the calm written on the accused's face.

"I am not a fucking coward and you know that very well. " Lupin sneered back, his mocha colored eyes brightening even more with the yellow trickling into his irises - a sure sign the wolf was prowling up and about.

"But I do regret it. I regret that I had to Obliviate my cub's first friends."

Shocked silence. And then, the pandemonium began. "You have done _WHAT!?"_ Tonks' voice pierced through the cacophony of voices as she stared at the unassuming man, her eyes wide with shock and betrayal.

 ** _"_** ** _SILENCE!"_** Sirius' voice boomed through the room, the sound sharp enough to cut into the mess. "And _you."_ He glared at the Dumbledore who opened his mouth. _"_ Shut. Up. I don't want to hear your sanctimonious _shit_ until we get to the _bottom_ of the mess you've undoubtedly caused. _Somehow._ I can't imagine _why,_ but that can be addressed at the latter date _. You_ are already on a thin ice as it is and I've had _half_ the mind of calling up the Blood Feud between yours and mine. So. _Don't. Tempt. Me."_ Then, he turned away from the ashen-faced old wizard to Lupin again.

"And _you._ Explain." He demanded, his voice leaving no room for protest.

Lupin swallowed his Adam's apple bobbing nervously before he began to speak.

"When Harry was six years old Dursleys went abroad for holidays and took him along. I followed them so I could keep an eye on the cub and - " He swallowed again, his eyes dark and distant with guilt and grief.

"Cu - " He cut the word at Sirius' sharp glance, cringing into himself. " _Harry_ had made three friends. A priest's son, some other kid and an orphan. Or at least I _think_ he was an orphan."

Hermione's face was stricken with hurt. Ron was on the verge of exploding with anger, but someone had the foresight to slap a silencing spell on him to keep him from interrupting Lupin.

"He… He wasn't in the best state. Dursleys used him as their personal baggage boy, and my wolf wanted to rip them apart the slowest, most torturous way imaginable."

His guttural snarl of anger was honestly _livid_ recalling recalled his memories as he glared at frowning Dumbledore. "But certain _someone_ had thought that taking him from them would be… _inadvisable._ "

"So him having his friends was _also_ unadvisable?" Flinching at Sirius' unexpected interjection Lupin gave a short nod.

"Yes." He inhaled a shuddering breath. "They - they were _strange._ If they had been normal kids, it wouldn't have been as bad as it was. My wolf wanted to both back away and rip their throats out. They were normal - or as much as they could've been - around Harry." He shuddered at the memory of two boys' blank eyes, while that messy-haired chatterbox was just… _strange_ \- not to the extent of the priest's boy and an orphaned one, but strange nonetheless.

"But you had _no_ rights. _Absolutely_ no rights!" Hermione shrieked at him, her hair a mess and fists clenched at her side as she lost her temper at her friend's plight.

"They were a _threat_ to _my_ cub so don't you fucking **_dare_** to tell me I was in the wrong!" Lupin screamed back at her, his previously tawny eyes now almost completely yellow, making her unconsciously stumble back into Tonks' hold.

"You didn't _see_ them, how they hung around my little cub like filthy _lepers,_ just waiting to - !" Lupin was working himself up in a fine rant, and nobody in the peanut gallery had any will or decency to stop him. He would have continued further, if not for Dumbledore's little glance of disapproval at his person.

"That's enough, Remus." Lupin mulishly glared at Dumbledore, but snapped his mouth shut, seemingly realizing he had already spoken too much.

"And you decided that the best solution was to… what, remove their _memories?_ How very… _Lockhart_ of you!" Hermione regained enough of her courage to spit back at him, her wobbly voice firming up the more she spoke. If she had a wand on hand, she wouldn't have hesitated to curse the man. To mess with memories of children - little boys, little _Harry_ \- this man was the _worst!_

"It was either that or let my wolf rip them apart. " Lupin's voice became toneless. The man truly believed what he said, and some were nodding in sympathy, but some still couldn't understand the _why._

"And didn't it occur to you that _maybe_ you could just _back_ away and let the kids be kids?" Kingsley asked, incredulous. "You, as fa as I know, could've done an _irreparable_ damage to his mind with your little _solution_ \- " He glared at the werewolf, disgusted with the man he had previously thought to be too honorable to use such uncouth methods, one hand curling around the handle of his wand an incantation itching at the back of his throat, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

"Better to have him lacking some of his brain than to leave him in a pack of unstable brats!" Lupin hissed back at him, his eyes wild. Kinglsey was not the only one tempted to curse the fool. But before he could open his mouth a completely unexpected person spoke up.

"Unstable? _Unstable?_ May I remind you, Lupin, that because of your _furry little side_ you were the most _unstable_ of all of your fellows in your little pack?" Snape sneered, his question more of a demand than a query. Remus bared his teeth at him like some cornered wild animal about to go for his jugular, but Snape wasn't deterred by the silent threat as he slowly came forward in front of the werewolf and leaning forward, glaring into those unnatural eyes. He spoke again. "I don't like Potter, but from what you've told us he was actually stabilizing the other three and considering they weren't werewolves - "

Snape abruptly shut up, his already sallow face paling even further. " You _imbecile._ You actually _destabilized_ him." He breathed out; horrified at the revelation his mind supplied him with.

Sirius paled a chalk white, no doubt already coming to conclusion Snape had drawn out first.

"D-Destabilized how?" Tonks dared to squeak out, her eyes wide, previously pink hair changing into an ash gray with stress as she squeezed Hermione's waist like the smaller witch was merely a giant teddy bear for her to fend off the big, cruel world. The hold had to be painful, but Hermione didn't move, her eyes large and desperate when her sight flicked from Potions Master to the werewolf and back.

"The signs were all there. How didn't I notice them?" Snape muttered to himself as he began striding away from Lupin, but barely five steps away he whirled back at Lupin who was watching him with rounded eyes full of confused trepidation.

"Desperately latching at the first person who had shown him kindness. Not reacting normally about the school-wide scorn. His suicidal tendencies, making appearance every year - " Snape's mumbled out words were slow at first, but they picked up pace as his brain rehashed all the happenings in a completely new light.

"Harry isn't suicidal!" Sirius snapped in stereo with Hermione, both of them glaring at the Potions Master.

"But he is definitely not _cognizant_ enough of danger to do a _reasonable_ thing and call someone to do away with the dangers!" Snape retorted back harshly, causing Hermione to flinch and Tonks to squeak, but Sirius held his ground. "First year was pure dumb luck." Both Ron and Hermione flinched at his callous comment, attracting curious glances of the peanut gallery around them. But Snape already continued, his speech speeding up again as his brain connected the dots that formed the horrifying picture.

"Second year - I wondered why didn't he lose it and outright retaliate against his bullies. And him going to save Weasley girl? Even knowing that he could lose his very _life?_ This is not being a hero. It's called being _suicidal_."

" - Third year. No one normal would want to go against Dementors again and again. But your little memory wipe had held on, digging even deeper into his psyche. Why do you think that the brat never, _ever_ shows the signs of PTSD? Just like a scruffy little duck, shaking off memories that would make even grown us experience a complete breakdown like water, all he needed was some rest medicine and he was right as a rain again!" Snape was winding himself up in a fine rant, not heeding the other's astonished expressions at his unnatural anger for Potter's sake.

"Severus, surely you exaggerate - " Dumbledore attempted to placate the increasingly livid Potions Master, only for the man to whirl around and glare at him, dark eyes blazing with fury.

 _"_ _Exaggerate?_ What, then, would you call that fourth year? A fancy _tale?"_ Snape sneered back, his voice silky smooth again, but razor thin, like a scalper about to cut femoral artery without any shred of mercy.

"Weasley betraying him, dragons, _graveyard?_ Because if it escaped your _esteemed_ memory, Dumbledore, let me _remind_ you. _I. Was. There._ And what have you _done_ about it? Ordered him one Calming Draught and then sent him home." At this point, Snape's voice was deathly quiet, but it may as well been a full roar, with how quiet the room was.

"He was too _trustful,_ to the point of being an utter _dunderhead_. Point him to some rescue mission only he can do, and off he goes. Isn't that just like you wanted it, Headmaster? Your personal little attack _dog_ \- " Dumbledore's face, previously cast into a grandfatherly mask, began to crumble, those benign twinkling eyes blazing with anger at the accusations cast as his person.

"I believe this is enough – " He began, his voice cold and merciless, causing many to flinch at the sound.

"If you don't want to hear the truth, then by all means. _Get. The. Fuck. Out."_ Moody interrupted angry centenarian wizard. He nodded to the Potions Master, his eyelids lowered at half-mast as he hurriedly thought over the facts Snape had presented. Dumbledore shot him a disappointed frown, but Moody was implacable. Sirius resolutely nodded at the grizzly ex-Auror's words.

His cub's very _life_ was at the stake and he would damn well do _everything_ to keep him safe, even if that meant listening to that grease ball. Ignoring Dumbledore, he motioned to Snape to continue.

Frowning with disappointment, Dumbledore elected to remain seated, but the occasional glances from the Order toward him were now filled with wariness and discomfort.

Snape inhaled and then began speaking again.

"Obliviate is restricted to Healers and Obliviators with a reason." He began, his voice terse with tension. "It messes with mind and some of its core processes, like rationalization of danger and self-preservation instincts. Year 1788, Huckleberry Finn had observed that Obliviated patients, even if they were basically the same after having an Obliviate performed on them, they were also more prone to getting into - or creating - dangerous situations to get into. "

"Harry is not like that!" Hermione choked out, her eyes wide with horror. "That first year, I had to outright _push_ him to agree - " Dark eyes looked at her even as she slapped a hand of her mouth.

"Yes, Miss Granger. You _pushed_ him. _Just. One. Little. Push."_ Snape enunciated his words one by one, as if they were precious pearls. "But that was all his already addled little brain needed to get things rolling." He shook his head at her whimper of dawning horror, but he had no pity or her.

"He was already unstable. _Why_ do you think I tried to beat some sense into his thick-headed, Gryffindorish skull?" He rhetorically asked, shoulders unconsciously slumping with defeat. "The Chamber. Dementors. Finally, that clusterfuck that was Triwizard Tournament and _you,_ Dumbledore, have done _nothing_ about it!" He slammed a fist on the desk, startling everyone, Tonks even squeaked like a little mouse, her hair's color turning into funny off-shade of white and grey.

Black eyes looked at Lupin, a flash of tired resentment passing through the dark irises. "Congratulations. You've managed to make him an unstable, danger-seeking magnet for trouble. "

"Can anything be done about it?" Moody was practical as ever, but everyone heard a faint tremble in the undertone of his voice.

Snape shook his head, greasy strands swaying mournfully in the motion. "Absolutely nothing. The damage - not to mention trauma - are irreversible. If it had been reversed when he had been Obliviated, the chances would be already halved. Now?" He paused as he tiredly rubbed his face.

"Now, any attempt would only damage him further. " He concluded, his speech-roughened voice hoarse with bitterness and regret.

* * *

 ** _Scribble:_**

 _Not many knew, but Waver Velvet was Xanxus' enabler._

 _Make that an_ unwilling _enabler._

 _Maybe he had destroyed a galaxy of innocent kittens and puppies in his former life. Or something like that. Because there was no other logical reason for him suffering under the demonic duo that was Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine and his little sister Irisviel Potter-Black._

 _He was an eleven years old. He was almost grown up - had to be, what with him having to take care of himself, but somehow, he was still being dragged around into an_ ungodly _amount of mess the two unlikely siblings had an almost preternatural gift to create out of the smallest things possible._

 _Like that time when Xanxus wanted to go bungee jumping from the Leaning Tower of Pisa. In the middle of the_ day _, even. Or when Iri had the_ bright _idea -_ not! _\- To somehow steal that statue of David. Never mind the damned thing was 17 feet tall and weighed more than six tons and Waver wanted to just about_ die _with mortification when Iri began to ask what was that thing between David's legs and why was it so small._

 _And then die_ again _when she loftily reassured him that_ of course _she knew about it and its purpose before nearly giving him a heart attack with her plan to restore the body's properties to their natural sizes._

 _Luckily there was a vendor with_ gelato _to derail her attention from her… ahem,_ artistic _pursuits. Waver's wallet had been brutally murdered that day, but Waver endured like a hero of old. Gritted teeth, stubborn face and a pair of crocodile tears at the edges of his eyes._

 _And then, there went Xanxus and his little obsession with his claws and_ Oh. God. Not. Again.

 _Waver ought to be_ canonized i _nto_ sainthood _for keeping up with those two little monsters._

 _Babysitting for pocket money?_

 _Waver's._ Worst. Idea. Ever.


	30. Chapter 30

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Last-time hurry and super-scurry about the chapter. Made a big jump ahead to get things moving, Xanxus also gets his corner. I barely believe we are almost at the end of the year, but yeah, busy as usual. Happy reading!

 ** _Warnings:_** ** _AU_** on a multiple scales, Zelretch's little gift and Potter luck have a love child. Not beta-ed.

* * *

 _I'm on the front line  
Don't worry I'll be fine  
The story is just beginning  
I say goodbye to my weakness  
So long to the regret  
And now I see the world through_

 _Diamond eyes_

( _'Diamond Eyes'_ by Shinedown)

* * *

The summoning was unexpected.

It was like ripping off bandage that was stuck to an enormous open wound with stitches going through the half-rotten flesh. An unimaginable, gory agony. He was envious to the other spirits who had the mercy of getting through the whole idiocy with just a mild headache from the knowledge transfer. And then, they _forgot._ As if the entire farce hadn't happened, ever. There were some instances when they looked like they almost remembered, but that little spark of cognizance was wiped out just as quickly as it appeared in their eyes.

But _him_ , with his E-rank luck? Nope. He wasn't _that_ lucky. He remembered every summoning. Every _instance_ of it. Every hope he had been forced to crush with his own, blood-soaked hands.

Was this his punishment because of his idiotic idea to railroad his younger self into non-existence and failing at it? Hadn't he already more than paid his dues for Gaia's 'help'?

Whatever it was –

His musings were interrupted by red-hot-white agony ripping through his non-existent veins, tearing through his mind, body and spirit in order to remake him for this newest farce of a race after one omnipotent wish once more.

 _Curse you, Zelretch. Curse you._

* * *

This was _ridiculous._ Harry wanted to bang his head against the wall with frustration - he would have banged it if he had any time for it, really.

He had been good, hadn't he? No self-imposed rescue missions, no being a do-gooder, or goody-two-shoes or some other stupid euphemism for being A Bloody Self-Sacrifical Idiot, and then _this_ happens.

Why, oh _why_ was he being a Mafia Bait?

Wasn't once already enough?

Or was someone up here obsessed with making him a damsel in distress - without complimentary skirts, thank you very much - and all he wanted to do on this very day, was to go to his favorite coffee bar, enjoy a slice of tiramisu and a nice cup of cappuccino - Paolo, his barista was a veritable _god_ in making that particular drink - but _noooo._

Some stupid Mafiosi wannabes - because they had to be wannabes, what with their spiffy Armani clothes, slicked-back hair and shiny black shoes , along with their oh so _polite_ manners when they humbly requested his presence because _reasons_ \- they weren't even so polite as to tell him what kind of reasons they were, but a subtle nudge of gun muzzle on Harry's lower back was an argument not many in Harry's position could argue against.

So he had been escorted out of the humble coffee bar with the Mafiosi wannabe politely holding the doors and everything. With the attention they had attracted, Harry felt more embarrassed than anything at the rate this ridiculous abduction scheme was going. Hell, one of those grunts even paid for both his tiramisu and cappuccino, as if Harry were young master of some rich family or something. And Paolo, the jerk, just smiled and accepted the deal, despite Harry's desperate attempts at eye messaging him to get some help. Or police. Or something, just to get Harry out of this distressingly _ridiculous_ position he had found himself in yet _again._

' _Xanxus is going to be beyond pissed.'_ Harry thought to himself, resigned. Not to mention the other three and _Iri._ Harry already felt an oncoming headache nudging his brain. He frowned in confusion as he tried to listen to their chatter, but much to his dismay, he could recognize only a few words. _'And what the fuck is that Cielo thing they are blabbering about now?'_

Much to Harry's confusion, his kidnappers were being extremely polite about their abduction of his person. His kidnappers - and Xanxus would have a bloody jolly time about that fact - had led him to some non-descript house.

Or at least it seemed non-descript on the outside. When they came to the inside, the drab exterior gave way to rich colors and elegant interior Harry had a sinking feeling cost more than he could ever make in three lifetimes. Even with his limited experience he could see the statues and artworks here were doubtlessly originals and any self-respecting curator would've fallen in a blissful coma if they laid an eye on them just for a short while.

"Here, _Signor_ Cielo." With that strangely respectful address, he had been shown something that was obviously a conference room.

The room was done in light ochre with white statues accentuating the color along with some simple murals painted on the longest wall, with some presenting gladiators fighting between each other or against wild beast along with half-naked women worshipping something that was some kind of a crossbreed between a dwarf and a goat, holding a staff, decorated with vines and grapes on the top. On the floor, there was a red carped with some golden motifs threaded through, the only thing that could be remotely gaudy in the whole scheme, but it's loud color was subsided via being put under big circular desk made out of mahogany with the self-same chairs with dark red seats circling it. Harry noticed there was eight seats total.

Well. At least they weren't intending to torture him from the get go. Smiling a wry smile, Harry chose one and sat down, prepared to begin playing the long game, whichever it may have been.

* * *

Trago. Scavo. Terzi. Gabriella. Leone. Mari. Orsini.

The Doomed Seven.

Not that they knew about it.

And it all began with seemingly unattached Sky.

Seven _Famiglias_ had thought that the boy's lack of full set of Guardians meant he was weak and ripe for picking.

Meaning, they could influence the Sky via _'offering'_ him Guardians handpicked from their own people.

Of course, they had noticed that the boy had three Guardians - Storm, Rain and Sun - Storm was apparently some kind of an assassin, Rain most likely a scholar and Sun was, much to their scorn, a priest of all people

They couldn't have been more wrong if they tried.

It had taken six hours for the Guardians to find the culpable _famiglias_ , get in, and then raze them to the ground - to the extent even the ancient ruins of Catharga at the moment of destruction would seem to be positively _flourishing_ with life when compared with the seven foolish _famiglias'_ strongholds.

And what was worse… it had taken only that seemingly incomplete set of Guardians to wreak the destruction.

Kiritsugu's impeccable skill with explosives was later on admired and then imitated by one Gokudera Hayato, much to certain tuna's dismay. The man's skill was unparalleled, what with him blowing up three _famiglias_ in a short order.

Soichirou had destroyed the two bases he was assigned to in a manner, typical of an assassin – unseen and unheard of till the end, until the sun rose up to shed its light to the deathly silent properties drenched with blood of their occupants.

Kirei, on the other hand, didn't bother with being subtle. As a pious man - and one of the two _famiglias'_ distaste of anything holy – it was bound to be loud, explosive and the kind of a massacre that would never be spoken of, as if recalling it even in the faintest of whispers could awaken the Holy Calamity once again.

The consequent fear, awe, admiration and greed made for some very strenuous relationships in the underground, as the Monster Triad, as it was later named, didn't want to align with anyone, no matter their threats, offers and blatant bribes they had been presented with.

* * *

But on Harry's side, it was more than a bit boring. Six hours, and they still haven't come to the agreement.

His captors – _capi_ from different Famiglias - tried to convince Harry that it would be in his best interest to choose the remainder of his 'Guardians' - _Guardians? He had_ _ **Guardians?**_ \- from their people, because he would be safer from any harmful elements that way.

 _Safer._ Yeah _right._ Harry fought the urge to snort when the boss of Leone used that particular phrase.

He played a confused civilian to a T - all big, innocent eyes, a touch of distrust, hesitant, but very vague agreement while getting to play the seven - or at least trying to - against each other.

If he were to be a commodity, then he would damn well take an advantage when he had it.

* * *

Eight hours later Harry was ready to either ready to cry hysterically with despair at their stupidity or hurl one of those precious chairs at their idiotic heads in an apoplectic fit.

Considering they had kidnapped him at what - two in the afternoon - and it was now already bloody ten at night, Harry felt wholly justified for his homicidal urge to teach the idiots some bloody common sense the hard way. Usually he wouldn't have felt so uncharitable toward the lot, but being forced - albeit gently, into the criminal underground and being made into some kind of a damsel in need of protection via the self-same criminal elements that decided they had nothing better but to kidnap him just because he was some kind of a _Sky,_ damn it, and they _dared_ to introduce their best and brightest this - this took the proverbial cake.

Apparently the three brighter lightbulbs out of seven finally noticed Harry's increasingly cranky disposition and after the extremely late dinner and a promise - _more like threat_ \- of continuing the whole stupid affair next morning, Harry was finally let go into his temporary sleeping quarters.

* * *

Harry felt dirty. And itchy. All those people, extending and pushing those so-called Flames toward him felt slimy and about to extort him of his very life blood. Their colors - _Flames_ \- Harry corrected himself, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he placed the glasses on the night stand - were either too bright, too dull but always, always _wrong._

They always _lacked_ something. Harry didn't know exactly what they _ought_ to lack, but something within him seethed and bristled every time they flared their Flames, trying to coax his own out to play and connect with their own.

But they weren't his _own._ They weren't Kirei, Kiritsugu or Soichiro. Or Xanxus or Iri. And that, in the end, made all the difference.

They felt wrong to him, like something that was ruler-straight instead of being crooked to the point of being unrecognizably ugly.

They were too clean, too pure, too –

 _Artifical._

Growling, Harry felt something cold and flat in his pocket, his right hand automatically curling around the strange, triangular thing, as if crushing it to smithereens would make his anger and frustration go away before letting his body flump on the admittedly sinfully soft bed.

His frustration was replaced with loneliness. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to imagine his friends. What were they doing now? And Xanxus and Iri? Involuntarily, his lips twitched in a small semi-scandalized smirk when he imagined Xanxus cursing at his disappearance and Iri avidly copying him, much to Kirei's dismay and Kiritsugu's amusement.

Doubtlessly they were already on their way to rescue him. Again. But at least this time, he wasn't a bundle of bloody meat.

That had to count for something, didn't it?

Kicking trainers off his feet, Harry curled on the covers, looking around the room.

For a prison cell, it was undoubtedly fashionable. Light blue walls with silver accents and - Harry grimaced – windows graced with iron bars. So no heroic escapes across the roofs for him. At least, not this time.

Once again, his hand clenched around that triangular thing. This was more or less the only thing that kept him grounded in that infernal conference room.

Even as pissed off as he was, he only had to hold that triangular thingie – he really had to find out what exactly it was, as he was sure he didn't put it in his pocket. Or even had it in his pocket, for that matter.

He fished the thingie in question out of his pocket and blinked.

It was some kind of a triangular stone, its edges rounded outward about the size of a galleon, though twice as thick... and blood red.

"Huh." Harry rolled onto his stomach, as he peered closer to his find.

It kind of reminded him of a Philosopher's Stone, but it lacked its inner light. Instead, its surface was warm from Harry's previous handling.

An ordinary stone. A trinket Harry didn't remember having or receiving.

"Red as blood. Hmm. Maybe it could be a good gift for Iri." Humming, he mused to himself as he played with it, watching the light refract in its depths. Maybe a necklace?

Smiling softly, he imagined Iri's reaction at receiving the little trinket. It was the same red as Xanxus' eyes, so of course she would love it…

Thinking about it, he slowly calmed down, and before he knew it, his eyelids drifted shut and he dozed off.

The previously unremarkable stone between his fingers briefly glowed with a soft red light, as if approving of his decision, but the glow was quickly snuffled out, leaving behind a skin-warmed stone in Harry's hand.

Unconsciously, Harry clutched hand in which he held the stone shut, bringing it to his chest as if fearing he would lose it otherwise.

* * *

 _It was too soon._

Fuck it, it was _always_ too soon.

But that was what meant to be the dog of Alaya.

No rest for the wicked.

The knowledge flashed through his brain - but it was all wrong - branding itself deep within it, its claws both ice cold and hot at the same time, just like numerous times before.

And then, he appeared into existence, grey eyes taking in the seven men of different ages, but all of them clad in their finest suits, one of them still having a gun in his hand, an acrid scent of recent discharge wafting in the air. Grey pupils widened with recognition as he saw them.

" _Che diavolo - !"_ One of them spat out, his eyes blazing with hatred, surprise and a smidgen of fear.

And he was right to fear.

He may have not been a devil, but he was close to it, and yet, infinitely worse than any devil could be.

"Fire! _Fire,_ damn you!" An elderly man roared even as he lifted his hand to follow his own words -

He didn't wait. He conjured his swords - black and white, their weight resting comfortably in his hands, like old friends -

And charged.

He wasn't stranger to butchering people. He was an Iron Wrought Hero and swords were meant to wound, to cut, to butcher, to kill.

It had been a child's play to relieve them of their worthless lives.

 _Enrico Scavo._ _Adalbert Orsini._ Leaders of their respective drug and prostitution cartels.

 _Ettore Leone._ Extortion, murder, and organ trade. He remembered the other four dimly, but they were surely big fishes, considering that they were in the same room than the previous three.

He heard a small choke and groan of pain behind him, prompting him to turn around in a flash even as he berated himself for being stupid enough to leave his back unprotected.

Only to see a green-eyed, bespectacled teenager looking at him, his right hand clutching at his left shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers, seemingly painting in the strange shape of triangle, circle and a line, all of them interconnected within.

"The _fuck_?" The green-eyed teenager growled out, glaring at him even as he backed out.

"That's my line, brat." He exhaled a long suffering sigh and resigning himself to another fruitless war, but something within him perked with amusement at the teen's rebellious attitude.

Hmm. Maybe this war won't be so predictably dull, after all. His lips quirked in an unconscious smile, small as it was. He tilted his head, enjoying those green eyes flashing with spite in his direction.

"But if I am in this shit, then let's do things by the book. Are you my Master?"

As soon as he finished his words, the doors banged open.

" _Harry!_ Are you alright!" Someone called, making him twitch but Harry smiled at the intruder, exasperated, indulgent and guilty at once. But wait - wasn't that voice kind of familiar…?

"I am fi – " The now named Harry tried to say, only for the stranger to growl.

"You are _**NOT**_ fine!" Hurried steps closed in and he fought the urge to twitch. "You - you are utter magnet for trouble! You were shot, you are bleeding and you are _STILL_ saying that you are fine? Have you lost your damn mind, you idiot?"

The scent of gun oil and smoke wafted past him, causing the silver eyes to widen. And he just about choked when he saw the person that berated his newest Master.

"I. Am. _Fine,_ Kiritsugu! I am not a bloody rare steak, am I?" Harry growled back, glaring, but Kiritsugu returned his glare tenfold.

His mouth opened without his permission. And his voice came out in a squeak.

" _ **DAD!?"**_

His Dad's head snapped back at him and yeah, it was undoubtedly him - younger, less burdened and without that dull look in his eyes as he spluttered with surprise at his newest address.

"Interesting. Emiya, did you perchance forget to inform us that you had an affair behind Harry's back?"

Another well-known voice, but less sleazy than that of his older counterpart.

Kotomine. _Fucking._ Kirei.

How would he protect his Master _now?_ He had hard horror stories about that particular priest and his own encounters with him were nothing to sneeze at, but going against his younger, more powerful version was, even if he were a Counter Guardian, a plain _suicide._

He just felt an early onset of a great-grandmother of all migraines settling in his skull.

Alaya, that fucking _bitch._ She just had to create an F-rank misery especially for him, didn't she?

While he was lost in his misery, his Master was apparently the only one sane in the bunch. Dark eyebrow twitching, Harry snapped as he cuffed the back of Kiritsugu's head, causing him to emit an involuntary yelp before he marched to the door Kiritsugu had busted through do spectacularly scant few moments before.

"For the love of all that's holy - We don't have time for that. Let's get out first and then we can debate Kiritsugu's apparent unfaithfulness to my person. Deal?"

Archer EMIYA nodded numbly, all three of them following the irritated Harry dutifully like obedient little ducklings, with Kuzuki of all people appearing from somewhere and snatching the green-eyed teen into his hold, causing him to bristle with annoyance, only to resign at Kuzuki's Significant Glare.

Yeah, his little reality went _kaboom._ And Archer wasn't sure if he would ever recover from it.

* * *

 **S** _ **cribble**_

"Who is this fucker?" Xanxus was not nice to the newest intruder in their little abode. He lacked his Harry-dose, he didn't sleep and he was full-out pissed the three assassins had outright forbid him to follow along to their merry mission of destruction. So yeah, cranky.

"Language!" His little ponytail was tugged on as Iri scolded him, causing Xanxus to scowl at her. That little hypocrite, she was cussing just as much as he. He returned the glare at the freakishly tall man clothed in the weirdest mishmash of clothes ever.

The man was tanned, the golden tan offsetting the white of his eyebrows and hair, along with unnatural silver eyes. He was clad in black with silver accents and the cloak was red with some kind of a back skirt around his hips, with steel-capped shoes. In any other situation, Xanxus would've thought him to be cool. But not when he was -

"Oh, this is Kiritsugu's son. Be nice to him." Kirei casually interrupted Xanxus' thought.

-Kiritsugu's son. Xanxus nodded to himself thoughtfully. Yeah, that was it.

But then, there was something wrong with this statement.

Kiritsugu's son.

 _Kiritsugu's. Son._

Oh, damn it all to hell.

Just right now, Xanxus was out of the fucks to give. And it was just plain unfair.

" _You."_ Xanxus rounded to Kiritsugu, who blinked with confusion as the red-eyed little boy poked him in the middle of his stomach harshly, causing him to squeak and wince.

"You already have Iri. It's unfair of you to get another one so soon. Give him to Kuzuki or return him back to where you found him. No exceptions."

Kiritsugu spluttered, but his so-called son barked out a laugh at Xanxus cranky audacity.

"Hey, kid. Iri is his wife. So he kind of can't return her, you know?" The white-haired man smirked at Xanxus.

Xanxus gifted him with his flattest glare. "Iri is _five years old_ , you sicko." He snapped at the man, motioning at his little sister who was still holding his ponytail, delighting at Whitey's dumbfounded expression as he turned back to Kiritsugu, whose shoulders were now shaking with amusement at his 'son's expense.

"I changed my mind. Just return him. And tell them to refund you, because this one is obviously faulty."

Archer's mental form changed into cracked stone at Xanxus' judgement.

Kiritsugu?

He decided that Xanxus was his newest favorite person (aside from Harry, of course).


	31. Chapter 31

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters or the lyrics used herein. If you want to listen to them, visit _**Lillymu961**_ 's channel on Youtube. _**Lyrics are her original and used with her permission**_. Once again, _**Lillymu961**_ , thank you, and hope you enjoy this particular chapter!

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Happy New Year 2018, everyone! The year 2017 was a crazy ride, but an enjoyable one. _Wheeewwww._ Hope you had fun, got new experiences, laughed a lot, cried when you needed to, and conquered your personal challenges like awesome people you are!

For this year, I will borrow words of gentleman who gifted us with _'Alice in Wonderland':_

" _There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."_ – **C.S. Lewis**

 **Let's make 2018 even more awesome than 2017!**

 _ **Warnings:** **AU**_ on multiple scales, as always. As for this chapter: _Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima, maxima culpa_ … but on the other side, this was all Kirei's fault, so if you want to blame someone, blame him. (I think he will happily accept all your grudges, because he's just that kind of a chap.) An honest warning: Kirei is _possessive._ And lacking Harry-cuddles. He is not a happy camper, folks, and he is feeding his inner (troll – _ahem!_ ) sadist in vast quantities. _**Torture ahoy,**_ so beware, if you have weak nerves.

* * *

 _Don't look back_

 _Don't close your eyes_

 _Don't think twice_

 _Or you'll be spliced_

 _He's not one to show restraint_

 _Or mercy of any kind._

 _Don't underestimate a man_

 _When he has a plan_

 _In his smile you will find_

 _Your demise._

 _("Your Demise"_ by _ **Lillymu961** \- Tribute to Kirei Kotomine from Fate_Zero and UBW)_

* * *

Kotomine Kirei was usually a calm man.

He was known to be unflappable brick-face in when it concerned any dangers. It had been a point of irritation, amusement and exasperation among fellow Executors that such a small, ten years old brat, practically thrived in the danger, while for the most of them their so-called Holy Work was necessary evil.

When Kirei grew up, not many things have changed. His obsession with finding the perfect orange-golden color, along with that hollowness in his chest, his borderline adrenaline-junky disposition to dangerous situations and of course, his endless, endless questions about his existence... or reason for it.

He hadn't expected his until then dull, meaningless existence to be shattered, reformed and gain meaning in the same breath when he had gotten the orders to check Little Whinging - a completely unremarkable and painfully ordinary place if it weren't for reports about strange disturbances.

From their first meeting, his world had been turned topsy-turvy, and Kirei couldn't bring himself to regret it. Harry had accepted him as he was - sadistic, flawed, unrelenting mess of contradictions even Kirei himself didn't know how to make heads or tails out of. Kirei didn't know why or even how exactly was that he was so important to Harry, but he was grateful nonetheless.

But all his gratitude couldn't erase the irritation Kirei felt at Harry for being a bundle of trouble, however unintentionally.

He had reluctantly allowed Harry to go with Kiritsugu in Germany in a vain hope there won't be so many trouble to speak of. And besides, it had been just as well for Kirei to employ some of his more questionable methods of gathering information without Harry fussing over him. Win-win, right?

Not so.

The first trouble popped up almost immediately after Harry's departure.

That kitty brat had vanished... and Kirei had a sinking feeling he knew exactly where Xanxus had holed himself. He dismissed the matter - less trouble for Kirei that way - and so he concentrated on gathering data from that old script.

He had found out that he missed Harry cuddling against him in the evening and their evening prayers.

That month seemed as long as an eternity, and Kirei found an outlet for his wrath and ever-increasing concerns in his spars with Fon, but he was not happy that a certain fedora-wearing man was sniffling around, asking and prodding about Harry.

But finally - _finally,_ Harry was _back_ , with Kiritsugu and Xanxus in tow, seemingly unharmed.

(Kirei reserved the right to execute a full body search to verify his on-site impression. Harry had protested to Kirei playing doctor, but had to accede when Kuzuki agreed with the priest.)

However, that white-haired, red-eyed little girl was new.

A _Homunculus,_ of all things. Einzberns were ridiculously possessive of them, even going so far as to classify making them as their family secret. Of course, other Magi could do their own version of Homunculi - it wasn't exactly forbidden, but when it came to human Homunculi, the one who had the supreme monopoly over making them were Einzberns. There was reportedly no outsider who could boast having an Einzbern-made Homunculus.

But somehow, Harry managed to snag one, and not only that - the one in his ownership - _custody,_ Harry insisted – was Einzbern's masterpiece, the would-be catalyst for Holy Grail.

Irisviel von Einzbern. A tiny, six-years old girl, who clutched to Xanxus, chattering his ears off, with Xanxus suffering through it and occasionally answering her numerous questions with either grunts or short explanations. They looked like brother and sister, at least at a glance, if one excluded Iri's hair.

Later, when asked, Harry sheepishly explained that the new Head of Einzbern family agreed to him fostering Iri for the time being. And of course, because this was Harry, and with addition of Xanxus, who claimed Iri as his little sister, Harry's own magic was petty enough to make her his daughter, one Irisviel Potter-Black.

(That happened in detour through Switzerland. Harry choked on his tea when he got Gringotts' missive about it. Xanxus was irrepressibly smug, the little ass he was, and Kiritsugu resigned himself to inevitable.)

(Goblins were having heyday with the newest development on Potter Family Tree, and now it was just a question of time when the newest kid would appear, along with their father. The bets were getting bigger and more ridiculous as the time went on.)

Well. Okay. A week passed by, and Iri was a polite enough guest for Kirei to accept, especially when both of them were unholy terrors that tormented Kiritsugu with their questions and antics.

One week of relative peace ( - of dragging Xanxus away from the catacombs and telling him that _no_ , this was _not_ a safe place to play in, despite their scary awesomeness and skulls and echoes and – you know, _normal_ catacomb stuff - repeatedly telling Iri to _stop_ encouraging him, because Xanxus was already bad when he was on his own but with Iri in tow he was _twice_ the little menace he usually was, and let's not mention their little flame experiments and subsequent explosions - it was a good thing their residence was heavily warded otherwise their motley crew would've been evicted at least thirty times over - ) and then _this_ happened.

 _This,_ in question, was Harry's kidnapping.

Kirei had known (actually found out from Fon and his fedora-wearing acquaintance) that Mafia was coveting Flame Active people up to the point to make snatch and grab of the civilians who had exhibited the signs of being Flame Active. He himself, Kiritsugu and Kuzuki could be counted in that group, but whoever dared to try to go after them met their very sticky end. None of them were willing to even remotely entertain the idea to be away from Harry just because _someone_ had the bright idea to try and 'steal' them away in arrogant belief they would just roll around and accept their fate.

Thankfully said _incidents_ happened away from Harry and Kirei could only hope they remained as such. Harry was still defenseless and vulnerable, after all, though his health had improved by leaps and bounds on the account of his little month-long excursion in Germany.

But then, their attackers had wizened up and snatched Harry away... in the middle of the day. Or early evening.

Kuzuki had put holy terror in that weasel of a Giulio - turned out the man had sold out Harry to Orsinis and their cohorts.

Seven _Famiglias,_ greedy enough to dismiss subtle warnings Kirei and his two fellow assassins had left behind (via corpses) to back away and leave them and theirs the hell _alone._

Six hours. It had taken them six hours too long for Kirei's tastes to get every scrap of information, make the plans and then - finally - execute their greatest warning yet.

"We've been _lenient."_ Kirei spoke to the covering idiot in front of him, his form silhouetted with flames licking through the mansion. He was clad in simple dark grey cloak that covered his usual attire, a golden cross glinting on his chest in a stark contrast to the numerous splatters of blood decorating his clothes, ironically missing the cross, even if his right cheek had a wide smear of it, likening to a crimson streak of war paint someone had carelessly placed on the smooth skin. .

The room was silent, only crackling of the approaching fire and his prey's hyperventilating, panicked sobs echoing through it. Someone would've expected that in such densely populated city someone would've already noticed that there was something wrong was with the building being on fire, but there was nothing.

* * *

"S-S-Sorry! I-I am sorry, we are sorry, please _, please_ \- !" The idiot blabbered, as if that would save his life.

The oppressing silence became even more profound and accusing. He looked into the priest's eyes.

Dark. Empty. Soulless.

 _Santa Madre Vergine,_ was this man really a priest?

It was more likely that this was some kind of a demon wearing a cross than a holy person! The man could suppress shivers going through his body. He scented the smell urine and waste and felt their warmth in his pants, sticky and humiliating.

He had soiled himself. He, whose favorite pastime was torture of people, soiled himself.

 _If only they had left the Sky of that monster alone…_

He regretted.

* * *

He regretted allowing _prete_ entering his house, thinking that it would be lovely to hear his screams when he would render him apart like filthy little animal he was. All of them preached peace, love and truth, holding themselves higher than ordinary people, only for them to be the same.

Alejandro Orsini knew that all too well.

This priest - he looked like young, idealistic little shit who thought himself higher than a common criminal. It wasn't the first, nor had the last time Alejandro seen his sort and, ahem, _sorted_ them out.

They tried to guilt trip him, acting like disappointed fathers or grandfathers, and then extort him of his money in a guise of the greater good and for redemption of his soul.

And this particular _prete_ … was the Sun of the Sky they were about to snatch for themselves. So it wouldn't be a big loss to have him quietly _leave_ in order to make a way for one of his own. It would be regrettable, truly - no, Alejandro took that back. It would be his utmost _pleasure_ to make this strange priest disappear the most painful way he knew how.

The priest smiled. The expression of his face would've been a kind of beauty if it weren't for some inherent _wrongness_ in that simple gesture. And then…. Everything had gone to hell.

A priest against the whole of Orsini household.

One would think the priest would've been outmatched and outgunned from the get go.

That his preaches and admonishments would be drowned in screams and cries of his own pain and blood as he would be subdued and tortured for his impudence.

Instead, the one who broke first, were _mafiosi_. Those hardened men, who had seen and done untold horrors in their lives, cursed the priest out, but then begged and screamed for mercy.

But there was no pity. No mercy. No absolution. Only terrible, mind-numbing agony and then, if they were lucky, death.

Involuntarily, Alejandro was reminded of Gavilano Massacre and his blood chilled when he ran to the safe room to box himself in in order to avoid the calamity that was undoubtedly coming after him.

 _Maledizione_. His breath hitched then sped up as his brain hurriedly connected the dots.

Had they really been such greedy, stupid, imbecilic _idiots_ as to go after the Sky of _Four Riders of Apocalypse?_

And now, everything around him was falling apart. All those careful schemes, the painstakingly gathered riches and influence, all of it crumbled under the merciless touch of one of those _monsters_ -

* * *

His flight hadn't been successful. The priest followed him, no matter how many people Alejandro had threw his way, they were broken and destroyed and if he weren't fleeing for his very life, however pathetic it was, Alejandro would've been impressed at _prete_ 's efficiency at dismantling them.

They have been _lenient._ Alejandro felt a bubble of hysteric amusement bubbling up his throat, only for it to be caught in his larynx, refusing to get out and painfully scratching the insides, as if he had drank a glass of vinegar.

Indeed. They had been oh-so _lenient,_ and all the seven _famiglias_ who pursued their Sky overlooked it.

Verbal refusals. Warnings. Finally, corpses of people they had sent to, ah, _recruit_ the three of them.

This should have been deterrent enough to any sane _mafioso_ and their _famiglia._ But the prize had been too grand to stop. A Sky of their own. A chance for power and prestige…

How could they ever think that this little, harmless-looking green-eyed Sky had such a monster at his fingertips?

Alejandro suppressed a hysteric sob as he stared into those soulless eyes, his heart racing and stuttering and stumbling, but he remained on the floor, his eyes glued to the soulless ones underneath the hood. Someone was bawling loudly, and belatedly, he realized that it was his own voice, loud and uncouth.

"Ah – Ah… _please_ – "

The priest's form was cloaked in a dark grey cloak, a smear of blood on his right cheek along with ones littering the fabric of his clothes, a cross on his chest glinting in the light like sign of righteousness.

"It's a little too little, too late, don't you think, son?" The priest's words were without any inflection, as if he was only commenting about Alejandro's biggest blunder to date like it was a simple weather change.

Jerkily, Alejandro nodded dumbly as he stared at the priest approaching him.

The man shouldn't have seemed as terrifying as he was right now. A demon underneath human skin, Alejandro knew, because the priest had killed everyone on his way - men, women, children, no one escaped his blades.

"W-Which one are you?" He choked out, morbid curiosity driving him on.

 _Prete_ tilted his head, a carnivore studying how to derive the most amusement out of his prey. He was young - too young for priesthood, flashed through Alejandro's head, and surely he had to be some kind of an assassin.

"Does it matter?" Dark, soulless eyes looked into his own ones steadfastly, as if Alejandro were a bug under his shoe.

Those blades in _prete_ 's right hand were ignited, dark violet with sun gold shards, and Alejandro's throat tightened to the point of asphyxiation.

Mist. This priest was a goddamn _Mist_ of all the Elements.

(Mists were cruel, possessive and inventive little bastards…but most of all, they were _possessive._ People thought the ones to fear were Clouds because of their single-minded focus and tendency to ground their opponents into smithereens. But Mists - Mists, if really, _truly_ angered, were the ones to look out for. It was not a rule, but most of Mist-natured people were excellent interrogators and torturers just by virtue of their Flames and being limited only by their imagination when concerning their use. )

He let out a porcine squeal of pain when three blades penetrated his right shoulder. Squeal lengthened into a screech as the affected place began to rot. The screech changed into wails as those long blades in _prete's_ other hand tipped on his sternum, gently scratching fabric there, before sinking through, like claws of some giant cat trying to dig out Alejandro's entrails, meticulously parting skin, muscles and innards, spilling blood, bile, acids and fat in a festival of gore.

Alejandro was past begging for mercy, and straight out howling in agony. He tried - and failed to flail, instead of it, doing jerky squirms.

"You know, God is merciful. But I am not inclined to be." The priest's lips tilted into a small, pleasure-filled smile, those dark eyes under those unusually shaped eyebrows like twin windows to abyss.

Those accursed, terrifying blades gently traveled up from the sternum across Alejandro's chest, throat, until they reached his face.

"God had given us mouth to speak with, eyes to see with and ears to hear of righteous deeds. Shame you wasted your chance to use them correctly, isn't it?" Kirei murmured.

"You coveted what was not yours to begin with. I've lived without Harry for eight years. Eight years of feeling hollow, empty and _useless._ And now, when I _finally_ got him back, you dare to _intrude_ with your _nonsense_ about having to have a Sky, just because you wanted more prestige and power. You wanted to take away my first, best friend, my _Sky..._ my precious person." The priest paused.

"' _Do unto the others as the others do unto you'_ , wasn't it? In this case, I think it's appropriate that I destroy everything of yours. And let's hope the lesson will _stick_ this time, shall we?"

The screams rose in pitch when a single blade sliced off ears, nose, lips and pierced his eyeballs.

* * *

Smiling slightly, Kirei watched the miserable wretch. The scene was beautiful, if he said so - the burning background illuminating bloodied body with its entrails leaking out of the stomach cuts, its tendons sliced, and face devoid of its eyes, lips, nose and ears.

Alejandro Orsini had received a very thorough lesson he wouldn't forget anytime soon. If he survived, that is. He hummed, for once calm and at peace, even if his mind already pondered on how to get to where the fools held his Sky.

"Ah… And about your question… I am Famine."

He turned around, striding to the window and jumping through it vanishing into the night as if he weren't there to begin with, leaving behind fire, corpses and blood.

* * *

"Everything in order?"

Kiritsugu asked, his voice tense and snappy. Both Kirei and Kuzuki nodded at him. Kirei could smell the faint scent of blood on Kuzuki, while Kiritsugu's clothes were spotless as usual, if a little bit wrinkled.

The three assassins eyed each other, grim determination etched on their faces.

"Then let's begin, shall we?"

* * *

It felt like some kind of a rehearsal, only with different scene, time, side characters and a little bit more noise.

It had been a long night, and neither of the three was inclined to give any of residents in the house any mercy. They were out of patience, mercy empathy, and in Kiritsugu's case, coffee.

And they were fucking too _late - !_ Kirei stumbled as he sensed Mana spike going through the roof before he regained his balance, charging forward, only to be overtaken by Kiritsugu.

The screams and shoots were cut off abruptly, and Kirei feared the worst.

His fears, however, proved to be groundless.

Instead, he got a whole lot of amusement out of Kiritsugu's newest family connection - that tall, tanned white-haired man called Kiritsugu _'dad.'_

Lips involuntarily twitching into a grin, before he managed to conceal his glee, Kirei entered the room, armed with this exceptionally interesting piece of knowledge.

"Interesting. Emiya, did you perchance forget to inform us that you had an affair behind Harry's back?" He drawled out, and the tanned man's head turned around, his already wide silver eyes just about bugging out of his skull when he took in Kirei's form.

Disbelief. Fear. Anxiety. Utter annoyance. And that oh so delicious _misery,_ like his world was kicked off its axis and he was helpless to make it right watched the play of emotion on the man's face, his interest perking up as his inner sadist sensed new toy on the horizon.

Kiritsugu was only that much fun to poke and prod… but this…. _son_ of his, could prove to be entertaining.

From the corner of his eye he saw Harry cuffing the back of Kiritsugu's head, causing the Magus Killer to yelp with shock before marched to the door, turned around and glared at all three of them.

"For the love of all that's holy - We don't have time for that. Let's get out first and then we can debate Kiritsugu's apparent unfaithfulness to my person. Deal?" Harry snapped, almost growling, apparently fed up with the ridiculousness of this day.

The white-haired man nodded numbly, before dutifully following Harry out and getting another aneurysm at seeing Kuzuki appearing and sweeping Harry into his hold. Harry tried to protest, but Kuzuki's glare stopped that train of thought.

Despite the white-haired stranger's catatonic expression of his face, Kirei's eyes narrowed at his back.

That man… was taller than him. Kirei was already 5.9 feet tall, which was no mean feat, followed by Kuzuki, whose height was 5.7 feet, and Kiritsugu was, much to his ire and Kirei's shameless enjoyment, 5.5 feet tall, just a little above Harry's 5.4. (None of the four assassins complained about Harry's height - or lack thereof. Harry was just more cuddly in comparison with that ankle-biting little terror called Xanxus.)

But this stranger's height was whopping 6.1 feet and for some reason, that irked Kirei something _terrible._

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

The surefire way of making your Archer to come out of the reality-induced catatonic shock - show him a kitchen and give him a free reign over it… along with adding one little ankle-biter annoyance who successfully disparaged Archer's mad cooking skills.

 _Or at least that's what Harry would write in the '_ Guide to know, lead and befriend (hopefully without being skewered in process) Archer EMIYA'.

 _As soon as magic word 'Kitchen' had been uttered, Archer snapped out of his daze and immediately demanded to be given reign over the sacred place, his silver eyes blazing with intense determination as he advanced at Harry and getting nose to nose with him._

 _If one would've seen them then, they would surely think that Archer was madly in love with Harry and about to kiss him._

 _But the sad reality of the scene was the following:_

" _Give. Me. The. Kitchen. Or Else." Archer breathed into Harry's face, ready, willing and able to kill for the Holy Land of Cooking._

 _Harry blinked with confusion but opened his mouth to give consent –_

 _When Archer's head was knocked forward by some kind of ball and already dangerous distance was sealed with a kiss, tongues unintentionally tangling together, tasting each other's warmth and sweetness -_

" _Hey, asshole!" Xanxus' dulcet tones resonated through the kitchen. "Stop bothering my turista and get your lazy, useless ass outta my kitchen!"_

 _Both of them sprang apart like they were struck with live wire, Harry's cheeks fire engine red and green eyes huge, while Archer turned around like tiger whose tail was not only stepped on, but also cruelly twisted into a pretty little pretzel in the same breath._

"YOU SHITTY LITTLE BRAT!" _The Counter Guardian roared out, the back of his head throbbing with pain and his eyes blazing with fury as he sprang after the red-eyed boy, who managed to squeak with alarm and hightail out of the danger zone he unintentionally caused with an innocent little fruit called lemon._

 _Blushing, Harry hesitantly touched his lips, his eyes following the man's red and black clad retreating back, the taste of the other's tongue pleasantly tingling through his taste buds._

 _(Even as pissed off as he was, Archer couldn't deny that the unintentional kiss was… well,_ pleasant, _and he wouldn't have minded kissing Harry again, on his own free will… before promptly binning the thought and locking it into the deepest recesses of his mind. First come murdering certain red-eyed shitty little brat in the goriest, most painful way possible, and then he would be off to conquer the kitchen. If he would make the tastiest, most awesome meal for Harry in the process - well, no one needed to know.)_


	32. Chapter 32

_**Disclaimer:**_ Don't own the characters or song, but story, yeah. Mine.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ Sorry for not updating sooner, was practically buried in work at job, and secondly, Kiritsugu had gotten peculiar. Whoops. I took liberty with Kiritsugu's little retaliation - but suffice to say Kiritsugu is scarily good at picking things apart, if nothing else. He could've had a very successful career as a demolition expert.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU** _ on multiple scales, Kiritsugu being his scary self and we get insight in the mind of Kirei's newest to - ahem, victim.

 _ **Quick Dictionary:**_

 _Buon giorno! -_ (Italian) - Good evening _  
_

 _Schlaweiner_ \- (German) Son of a gun

 _Arschloch_ \- (German) Asshole

 _carabineri_ \- (Italian) military force charged with police duties under the authority of the Ministry of Defense.

 _l'omicida_ \- (Italian) homicide

" _Dio mio._ _Santa Vergine protegicci." -_ (Italian) _\- "My God. Saint Virgin (Mary) protect us."_

* * *

 _La grande città  
s'illumina già  
con i neon e gli stop rossi _

_(i neon e gli stop rossi)  
e si riempirà  
nei bar e nei pub  
di rumori e di discorsi _

_(di rumori e di discorsi)  
questo traffico da noi non c'è mai  
neanche per andare in centro alle sei  
come fanno a non impazzire qui  
stai attento che esce uno esce uno dai parcheggiati_

 _Siamo al centro del mondo_  
 _ci siamo dentro anche noi_  
 _dove succede tutto_  
 _e puoi fare quello che vuoi_

 _('Viaggio al centro del mondo', by 883)_

* * *

Not many things could piss off one Magus Killer, aka Emiya Kiritsugu nowadays.

But one sure fire way to make the young assassin's wrath to crash on the heads of the idiots who thought that they could get one over him, was to go after one Harry James Potter.

Or, as some specific people knew him, the unattached sky, half full sky, whatever.

Since they had gotten back from Germany, Kiritsugu had been mentally preparing himself for utter chaos that would undoubtedly follow them settling down.

It was kind of a norm, really. Ever since he got Harry back, it seemed that along with Harry, trouble also tagged along with them. Either in shape of that kitty little brat (Kiritsugu still itched to ice the brat something fierce and only Harry's presence kept Xanxus alive, and most importantly, in one piece), or the kitty brat's white-haired limpet (Iri was cute, but not _that_ cute), or the sheer chaos the two of them had caused with their unfortunate babysitter (Waver Velvet was at least somewhat redeemable and innocent in all of this…. Probably. Kiritsugu reserved the right to change his opinion,). Or people who tried to - in some way, shape or form, make them part from each other.

First, it had been wizards. Then, _that_ man. Kiritsugu still bemoaned the fact Soichiro had been faster than him, and one of his life's regrets would be that he didn't shot the asshole with an Origin Bullet. But after him… when they got back into Rome, it seemed like those mafia idiots were crawling out of woodwork like their collective assess were on fire.

If it weren't about Harry, then it was about Kiritsugu and his _interesting_ ability to harness those red flames.

And it was honestly pissing Kiritsugu off.

Those mafia bastards had to be some kind of part blood hounds, having to manage to sniff them out so fast. Kiritsugu hadn't told Harry - in fact, none of the tree of them did, but while Harry was recuperating, and they had to get out for food and other necessities, they regularly encountered some or other well-meaning _mafiosi_ who tried to - ahem, convince them that they would be taken care of if they agree to join their little bands of thugs.

At first, the 'conviction' process was relatively painless - as in, the _mafiosi_ in question behaved like good little boys who dutifully confronted Kiritsugu, politely asked if he was interested, and upon receiving negative answer, they nodded with understanding and removed themselves out of Kiritsugu's sight.

But apparently they became increasingly desperate. Kiritsugu didn't know why, as Viper's information said that Storms weren't _that_ rare, and the _Mafiosi_ in question decided to use a mite bit harsher methods.

Of course they didn't count that if one wanted to get one Emiya Kiritsugu, they would get him... only, not in the sense they wanted to have him. If at first Kiritsugu allowed the idiots crawl back to their masters with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs, when they began to use force, then all bets were off.

If they wanted to manhandle him... well, then it was only right to send them back as cold, dead corpses.

Kiritsugu didn't know just how they did - manage to hide from Harry that pesky little problem of theirs. Because yes, it was pesky, and all three of them - meaning Kirei, himself and Kuzuki - have had it. It would've made for an awesome bonding experience, really, but all what the problem in question made feel the three assassins in question, was increasing irritation and mounting homicidal tendencies. Kirei disposed of his stalker in increasingly inventive ways, Kuzuki's didn't know what hit them - _hello_ , assassin here - and Kiritsugu got a hefty amount of practice with cold weapons. The only lucky point in all that mess was the idiots in question kept their hands away from the kitty brat and his toy - ahem, little sister.

Of course, this status quo couldn't have continued into forever. Sooner or later something had to give - either the mentioned _mafiosi_ 's greed, or assassins' patience. The ones who caved in first were _mafiosi_.

It was a warm, calm evening, and Kiritsugu went to retrieve Harry back from visiting his favorite coffee bar. It was a simple thing - a normal tourist-y thing to do. Kiritsugu had intended to surprise Harry - it never failed to warm his heart how Harry's face brightened up when he saw Kiritsugu, and Kiritsugu in turn kind of learned to tolerate the same expression on Harry's face when he looked at that shitty priest or an assassin.

(Why, oh _why_ couldn't Harry have some normal friends, really?)

But when he entered the bar, the elderly barista in brown shirt and black trousers was calmly wiping the glass down, humming a small ditty under his breath, the guests chattering and laughing around... but there was no Harry.

Kiritsugu felt a chill skitter down his spine.

Oh. This was so not good.

His hackles raised - he half- hoped against hope that Harry went to toilet or something, but something told him that wasn't the case.

Quickly weaving among the guests, he came to the bar and waved his hand to gain barista's attention.

" _Buon giorno!_ What would you like to order?" The cheerful flash of white teeth died a sad death when barista saw the intent look on Kiritsugu's face.

"I want to know if Harry is still here. Green eyes, bespectacled, messy hair and he likes cappuccino with tiramisu." Kiritsugu was succinct in his description as he observed barista's reactions.

A slow blink and furrowed eyebrows.

"No. He wasn't here. At least I don't remember he would've been." barista answered slowly. "Why, did something happen?"

Kiritsugu cursed under his breath as he felt his heart rate elevate with dread. "No, I just came to accompany him back to the flat - he is still recuperating from his illness…" Grimacing, he shook his head. "Do you know who would have known?"

Kind brown eyes widened with dismay. "Oh. That's no good. But… yes, there is that no-good ruffian, Paolo. Sadly, he is already off the job for today but…" the barista placed the glass he was polishing on the table and bent down to retrieve a scruffy red notebook.

"If you want to ask, I can give you his number – "

"Address." Kiritsugu interrupted him. Barista's lips thinned at Kiritsugu's rude demand, but one heavy glare from those lifeless eyes, he complied.

 _Santa Vergina Madre._ Whatever that foolish youngster had done, be it upon his head. That man was dangerous, and he would rather wash his hands off of him than suffer decidedly unpleasant fate alongside him just because they were distant acquaintances.

As soon as Kiritsugu came out the coffee bar, he whipped out a mobile phone and dialed a number.

"Kuzuki. Harry is missing. Meet me at Piazza Perin del Vaga. We have an asshole to hunt."

* * *

An hour and a half later, the two of them had returned back to their residence. Because it certainly wasn't home, what without Harry being there.

But of course, that Paolo bastard was very informative about his payers. Or at least as much as he could be, what with him knowing someone from Trago contacted him about collaborating with them in exchange for a hefty amount of money.

But that was not nearly enough information to find Harry, considering Paolo had said - stuttered, really - that there were many more forces at work than only those Trago bastards.

Kiritsugu closed his eye rubbing them with the fingers of his right hand absentmindedly as he leaned back into his chair, acutely missing Harry's presence. _Well._ This was calling for additional information sources. He heard the door open and close, but he didn't twitch as his brain was blasting trough the plans on how to acquire the needed material as soon as possible.

"Where's Harry?" Kirei's voice floated across the room, the priest sounded exhausted - not that he looked it, causing Kiritsugu to pause in bemusement before he tilted his head upward to the ceiling as to alleviate the migraine pounding in his cranium.

"Paolo sold him out." And wasn't that a galling fact. Kiritsugu looked at Kirei, who was now incredibly still, a dark, foreboding look on his face expressing all the irritation with situation they unexpectedly found themselves in.

Sighing, Kirei placed take-out on the table. "Can't say we didn't expect that." He murmured, annoyed, his forked eyebrows furrowing with annoyance. The young priest then looked at the messy haired assassin, eyebrows arching with askance. "What have you got?"

Kiritsugu grimaced and then began to talk.

* * *

An hour later, Kiritsugu was once again on the streets. If one wanted information, then there weren't any better sources than bars, home crowds and of course, his interesting reputation as a Storm.

At first sight, the messy-haired young man wasn't any different from multitude of other people milling the streets. Clad in casual dark gray T-shirt and faded out denim jeans he could've been one of the people living in the town if not for his exotically tilted eyes. More than one girl had sent him an appreciative stare in hopes to attract his attention, but he disregarded them and melted into the crows, just one more person among the many, until he surfaced near the less known parts of the city, seemingly unaware to the fact that he was being followed.

Instead, he headed toward _taverna_ that had surely seen better times and entered the building. Never one to underestimate the power of gossip and rumors.

Two hours later and five visits of information gathering places, from the truly dodgy ones to two which seemed casual gathering for tourists, Kiritsugu was finished.

He had all the needed information. Dark eyebrow twitched when Kiritsugu let go of his iron-clad focus enough to briefly reminisce about being hounded by his soon-to-be prey. It was awkward, annoying and Kiritsugu almost wished he could've dealt with the Clock Tower's idiot brigade instead. Magi, while dissing technology, at least knew where the line Kiritsugu had drawn was. _Mafiosi_ , on the other hand, were for some reason blind, deaf and dumb to Kiritsugu's repeated and increasingly violent warnings. But this time, those assholes had truly crossed the line in question and if those _'lessons'_ Kiritsugu had taught them until then didn't stick, Kiritsugu would make sure this one will… for a long time coming.

Exhaling an irritated breath, Kiritsugu gave his 'minder' a slip and mingled into the crowd, as he fished a cellphone out of his pocked and dialed one of the numbers.

"Jackal? It's me. I want three crates of your best. Can you get it delivered on the double?"

* * *

"That _Schlawiner_ will be the death of me."

The elegant orange-haired woman grunted as she flapped back into the rickety chair gracelessly, disregarding it's protesting croaks and wails.

She was clad in a tight back corset that enhanced her bountiful breasts and slender waist. Her hair was put into a semi-messy bun, and she could've been called a beauty, if not for a horrifying double scar that began at the edges of her mouth and bisected her cheeks up to the ears.

The scar had been messily stitched up - a shoddy job that marred otherwise flawless face. Dull dark grey eyes narrowed in thought as she idly spun the chair. It was unusual for That Man to call for her services - she wasn't exactly cheap and that son of a gun was a lone wolf to the extreme.

At the first sight, the room could've been mistaken for a car repair shop… only instead of car parts, there were different weapon parts strewn around, like the room was some kind of a toy for a mad gun enthusiast.

"But what a way to go, huh?" Someone in the back of the room foolishly quipped, prompting the woman to snap out the gun and shot at the offender, causing them to yelp with fright.

"If you have time to wag your tongue, then you have time to make do and prepare Grand Duke. Three doses and be quick about it. " She shot at the idiot, causing them to yelp with fright.

The orange-haired woman now looked more like a demon - a sexy demon, but a demon nonetheless - dull, merciless gray eyes, and that horrifying slasher grin marring the otherwise perfect lines of her face as she glared at the incompetent buffoon as she once again unhesitatingly raised her gun, and the soon-to-be dead fool's eyes bulged out with terror.

"M-Miss!" Dark grey eyes narrowed and she shot at the idiot once again, this time hitting the target dead. Nobody moved.

Rouge painted lips pressed to the end of the gun thoughtfully as the woman glared at the other occupants in the darkened room darkly.

" Are you really so incompetent that I have to do everything by myself?" She snapped, grey eyes flashing with anger. A quick murmur of denial echoed through the room.

Shaking her head, she sighed. "Get rid of the mess and prepare three GD. On the double, time is money."

The crew moved, as if already used to her antics.

This was Jackal. This was the number one weapons dealer in Italy.

Jackal looked at the ceiling, the edges of her brutalized mouth twitching into amused smirk as her eyes slid to a half-mast.

"I pity the _Arschloch_ who was dumb enough to call upon their head Emiya's wrath." Her quiet chuckle changed into a small, seductive giggle before tapering off into silence interspersed with sound of her breaths.

Bemused, she thought that at least she wouldn't be lacking in entertainment this gentle evening.

* * *

Xanxus stared. And stared some more.

Block after block of something that seemed similar to off-colored putty was being put into a small, barely palm-sized pouch.

That wouldn't have been so strange, but those blocks were big - at least a little bit bigger than the pouch and by all the rules, only one of those blocks ought to have filled the said pouch to the brim. Instead, the block disappeared into the ever-hungry pouch in front of Xanxus' much freaked out eyes.

It would've been funny sight, if the reason behind it weren't much more serious.

Harry had been abducted, and Kiritsugu was gearing to make those bastards who had done the deed regret that they had been born.

And apparently part of it were those strange putty blocks Kiritsugu had been ridiculously possessive over, not allowing Iri to even touch one of them. Iri's pouting, which was usually so effective, didn't have any effect on the assassin this time – and what was even more, Kiritsugu outright glared at the little girl, causing her to still, and usually cheerful red eyed got huge before she wordlessly nodded and quietly retreated to a corner to play with Tribble.

"Are you sure I can't come with you?" Xanxus asked once again, for the tenth time in five minutes.

Kiritsugu paused to glare at him. "I am sure." His tone was absentminded and yet focused as he answered Xanxus.

The red-eyed boy had to suppress a shiver. He had seen Kiritsugu pissed off, and he was scary as fuck, but this version of Kiritsugu terrified the _pants_ off of him. He would've taken the scary angry version of Kiritsugu any day, any time, but this one… Nope. No.

Xanxus liked to _live_ , thank you very much. Even if he was still more than a little sullen about the three assassins excluding him from their little pow-wow - which galled him to the extreme - but the expressions on their faces were telling enough - whoever interrupted them, would be a mincemeat created via greatest suffering imaginable through their hands.

Seven _Famiglias_. Xanxus rolled through his curse vocabulary at least thrive over and invented some new curses on the way just for the occasion. Freccia was bad enough, but now they had to contend with seven _famiglias_ at once? He had often seen them come home annoyed and their eyed had a slight color of one of their Flames reflected within and concluded they had to be Courted by some _Mafiosi_ to joint their _famiglia_. Well, that wasn't his business so Xanxus kept mum on the issues.

But now, the insanity reached a fever pitch, culminating in the fools taking Harry away from the three of them - five, if Xanxus counted himself and Iri. But mostly, they took Harry from his three friends, and even as young as he was, Xanxus knew the poor bastards' time was numbered.

Kirei, Xanxus could understand. He knew the priest's _modus operandi_ – enter the building and do the Executioner-y things. And Kirei was scarily good at those, just like Kuzuki.

But Kiritsugu - Kiritsugu was an enigma. The messy-haired Magus Killer also had to contend with _three_ strongholds to take down, and Xanxus just couldn't imagine it.

He had to say something in that sense, because Kiritsugu looked at him, those dark, blank eyes causing Xanxus' heart to almost rip out of his chest in haste to get away from this human-shaped void that Harry called his friend.

"Oh, I have my own methods." Kiritsugu noted frankly. "You don't have to worry about that."

Mutely, Xanxus nodded and resolved to never, ever piss off Kiritsugu into the ice-cold state he was in now.

* * *

Kirei's own execution methods were flashy and no doubt eye-catching enough that they would attract large mass of people, thus giving Kiritsugu perfect opportunity to create his own bloody heist.

"-have you heard, someone had the galls to gut the Orsini _famiglia_ – "

" _Si_ – one of my friends was there. He said the _carabineri_ that had been called in were sicker than dogs. Apparently _l'omicida_ practically butchered the clan head – "

" _Dio mio._ _Santa Vergine protegicci._ D'you think they will come after us?"

"He's nuts enough – "

Kiritsugu's eyebrows quirked. _Hm._ Seemed that Kirei had fun with that Orsini pig. Nodding to himself, he vanished into the crowd.

He had his own work to do.

* * *

Once was a coincidence.

Twice was a circumstance.

And thrice was an enemy action.

The first one to fall was Orsini _famiglia_ , followed by Trago.

One may have thought that someone had a grudge toward the two - the _famiglias_ in question were not really popular or big enough fishes, but surely they had to offend someone – gravely offend for that someone to pull the execution route irrespective of who was innocent and who was guilty. No one had been spared.

It had been a shock to the usually peaceful Holy City to witness such a blatant homicide.

Three and a half an hour later, the citizens' shock turned into horror when the late stragglers witnessed the buildings collapse into themselves without any warning, burying within their rubbles their occupants.

Scavo. Terzi. Gabriella. All three of them, following each other in scant seconds. There was no warning. It was just - one moment, those building were standing, and in the next, they were not.

Another senseless mass tragedy, at least on the surface.

Kiritsugu closed his eyes as he rested in the cab he hired to drive to the rendezvous point, his grim countenance apparently terrifying enough to silence any attempt his driver may have had at chattering him up.

His hands - dark eyes glanced at them - now bloodier than ever.

Even If they were clean and steady, Kiritsugu saw them drenched in red to the elbows and more.

It was so bloody _simple_ to kill those people it was almost hysterical. Kiritsugu's lips quirked into sarcastic, self-deprecating twitch before smoothing back into their regular emotionless frown.

A small pouch, a bunch of C4 blocks, specially made triggers on the bombs and a cellphone. Really, the hardest part was getting into the buildings, which had been accomplished without trouble. Having multiple identities at time once again proved to be handy.

If Kiritsugu was good at anything, he was good at demolishing things. It was a minor miracle Harry hadn't fallen apart on his hands - or even stayed Kiritsugu's friend despite the Magus Killer's less than reputable vocation in certain circles. And one of his points of interest were blasting techniques - all kinds of them, really, and their uses.

Kiritsugu was at fault in many fields, but in destruction, he was an unparalleled genius. Precision blasting is a highly advanced blasting technique used primarily to demolish tall buildings. It's forty-five percent of knowledge, five percent of luck, and other fifty… a keen sense for when and how to strike to reach the maximum impact with minimum amount of explosives needed to obtain he result of total destruction.

Due to the destruction of load bearing walls and key support structures, the building collapses downward and inward on its own weight. Using the least amount of explosives to obtain the result of total destruction.

It had taken him some time to install the blocks at the appropriate places and then sneak out, but after that, it was a child's play. Just one press to dial an empty number - a number that jumpstarted the trigger and begin the demolition sequence to doom the houses' inhabitants. The concrete - even reinforced as it was - couldn't withstand the full force of the explosion, causing it to splinter and fall, burying beneath its weight people who were unaware that their leaders' greed spelled their doom this very night.

Kiritsugu was just grateful that the foolish leaders had enough of foresight - or better yet, greed, to move Harry to a neutral location in order to _persuade_ him to take in some more elements.

Something within him seethed with anger at the barest of the thought of Harry having anyone else than them in their circle. They were there first, and Harry didn't need anyone else. If Kiritsugu had his say, he never would, either.

Now, all that remained was to wait on Kuzuki. He looked on the wristwatch, dull dark eyes narrowing in contemplation as he leaned back into the seat and sorely wishing he could take a smoke.

They didn't bother being quiet. It would've been kind of counterproductive, and besides, they were fast enough to not matter if they caused any noise.

Kiritsugu was the first one to hear the shots in the conference room that had been reserved for the negotiations. His heart just about leaped into his throat, choking his windpipe mercilessly as he thought that this time - this time they were too damn late –

The screams of fire and desperate screams echoed in his ears as he just about blasted through the cannon fodder who called themselves bodyguards, not even caring that he was already abusing his body, what with his fourth _Double Accel_ this day.

He burst into the room, disregarding the white-haired, tanned man, his eyes zeroing on Harry -

"Harry! Are you alright!" He called out, and Harry looked both exasperated and resigned as he nodded to him.

"I am fi – " Harry tried to reassure him, but Kiritsugu had had it, considering that his friend was bleeding, pissed off at both himself and Harry.

He wasn't fast enough. And Harry - Kiritsugu growled.

"You are _**NOT**_ fine!" He hurried forward, snapping at his friend, feeling the urge to tear out his hair with frustration and helplessness. "You - you are utter magnet for trouble! You were shot, you are bleeding and you are STILL saying that you are fine? Have you lost your damn mind, you idiot?"

Harry wasn't happy, either, what with him glaring right back at Kiritsugu. The Magus Killer would never, ever admitted, but he faltered for a second under those unique eyes before he regained his footing and glared back even harder in a vain hope to either intimidate harry or at least get some bloody sense into his thick skull.

"I. Am _. Fine,_ Kiritsugu! I am not a bloody rare steak, am I?"

 _'Yeah you are a bloody steak – '_ Kiritsugu wanted to point out, what with how much was Harry bleeding, but his train of thought was interrupted by the last word he would've thought to be aimed at his person.

 _ **"DAD!?"**_

An unknown voice asked incredulously, prompting Kiritsugu to snap his head up to look at the idiot who claimed that one of them - and Kiritsugu had a sinking feeling that person didn't mean Harry - was their dad.

Tall. Wide silver eyes, tanned, white hair. And did Kiritsugu mean the bloody wanker was tall? There was no way, no how that this giant of a-a dandy was his son! He looked what - twenty, twenty three at most?

He tried to say something, but all that came out of his throat was a bewildered splutter as he tried to compute just how, in the name of Alaya, would that person be his legitimate son.

"Interesting. Emiya, did you perchance forget to inform us that you had an affair behind Harry's back?" Kirei's voice drawled out, and Kiritsugu shot him a glare.

Harry's friend or not, one of those days, Kiritsugu swore he would do something _horrible_ to the priest.

Whitey, as Kiritsugu called him in his mind, followed them - more like followed Harry - like a small puppy, whose world was turned around without his knowledge or say-so. In all of his _otaku_ glory, even. Kiritsugu cringed every time he thought just how _flashy_ the man's attire was.

(And he dearly hoped he was mistaken. His son, an _otaku?_ Preposterous!)

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

He clenched the bracelet in his hand, wishing to such the calm and warmth it exuded right into his innermost being and keep it here for an eternity.

His friend's wedding would be soon. Too soon for his tastes, but Aoi was insistent to marry that fop of a Tohsaka, like good little girl to continue the line.

He grimaced, his blind eye narrowing with helpless anger, only to be soothed via that strange rose-gold and crystal trinket father Kotomine had so generously gifted him with.

Nowadays, this bracelet was the only thing that kept him sane and breathing through Zouken's little torture sessions. For some reason the old worm hadn't seen it, and the worms were surprisingly docile - at least when not in Zouken's sight.

He really didn't want to be her witness, but she asked.

Clenching his jaw, his cheek muscles ached. His body ached, screamed, _begged_ for him to rest, but he stubbornly stayed upright, looking through the window, a hand on the wrist with the bracelet.

 _One more day._

 _One more time._

 _Just one more breath._

The hand clenched around the skin-warmed metal spasmodically, it's owner fighting for his breath through the spikes of pain as he looked at the evening horizon, empty eyes flickering across the distant, uncaring lines of the sun setting into sea.


	33. Chapter 33

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own the characters or the song. I am just writing the , and about song... if you want to listen to it, go to Youtube. The original is better than translated bit.

 ** _Shout Out:_** Third POV, this time our favorite iron-faced assassin, one Kuzuki Soichiro, before we get back to the main track, and hopefully kick the story ahead instead. Let's not make Xanxus cry, mmkay? And Archer is in a dire need of Kitchen Therapy...

 _ **Warnings**_ : _**AU**_ on a multiple scales, spicy appearances and a suffering Archer.

* * *

 _Stained by sadness_

 _How much is my youth worth now?_

 _"_ _Oh, what have you've been doing_

 _Up until now?"_

 _The wind asked me one day._

 _"_ _Where am I? Where am I?" I cry out_

 _I am always alone after all._

 _If you want something, then say you want it!_

 _Pick up all the treasures that you've dropped!_

 _Stained by sadness_

 _Someday, let's truly smile!_

( _"Yogorechimatta Kanashimi Ni",_ by **SEPIA,** translation courtesy of SystematicChaos, pulled from anime version of _**Sakigake! Otokojuku**_ )

* * *

He never had anything to begin with. His life had been consigned to the sect since the very beginning, never knowing the warmth of a mother or support of a father, nor the love of his siblings.

He was strange even among the fellow trainees – too cold, too focused and a complete wet blanket when it concerned any 'fun' outside training. While his mentality had made him an ideal assassin, it hadn't done him any favors in interpersonal relations.

He had been uncaring of people aside of them being designated neutrals, targets or outright enemies. So it had been all the more surprising that it took only a pair of green eyes behind those truly hideous glasses and the little one struggling with the luggage to more or less turn his world around and spin it sideways.

Assassins didn't have weaknesses - having a weakness in the assassin business meant that the one who had a weakness was literally a dead man walking. It was just a question of time, when the person in question would be killed.

Kuzuki Soichiro knew that only too well. But something in the little boy's smile, the gentle gaze in his eyes made him stay his hand from breaking his neck and instead, help him.

These days were the brightest one in his existence - until they once again dulled on into the black and grey with a splash of blood red mixed in, courtesy of that strange, hangdog-like man.

He had done the best he could - to survive - but that single mission broke something within him - breaking him in process, resulting in the complete massacre of his sect before he vanished into the masses in search of redemption.

His redemption turned out to be Harry. This single month Kuzuki had been separated from harry, was the most nerve-wracking time of his life, and he knew Kirei had felt the same. It simply wasn't the same when there was a Harry-shaped hole in their headquarters, his little morning rituals such as cooking them breakfast, his habit of praying with Kirei, snarking at Kiritsugu or meditating with Kuzuki himself.

It had been with almost tangible relief when Kuzuki saw Harry on the train station, happy, healthy and in one piece. He had been taken aback with the little white-haired and red eyed girl - something about her rubbed him _wrong_ \- but he pressed that feeling into the background, concentrating on Harry, his voice, the feel of his body in Kuzuki's arms, the sense of something clicking back into its place, and Kuzuki was, once again, at peace.

The first thing both Kirei and Kuzuki had done when Harry was back in their abode, was to strip him off his clothes and check the wounds. Much to their relief, the heavily scabbed scars were healing nicely, but even so, both Kirei and Kuzuki had used their Flames to speed Harry's recovery even further.

And if in the process Harry became a puddle of goo across their laps, even better.

There was a small reprieve - if it could be called as such, because like it or not, the three assassins were practically hunted down for their Flames, their hunters at first trying to cajole them, and when that failed, force them into joining their _famiglias_ just because of those stupid colors.

There hadn't passed a day the three assassins didn't sent back a strong message to the idiots in question that no, they were not eligible, and heaven help them if the idiots in question persisted in their futile endeavors. It had been hard to keep Harry out of their pesky trouble, but somehow, they managed. But even Kuzuki knew they were running out of time, and sooner or later, something had to give.

"Kuzuki. Harry is missing. Meet me at Piazza Perin del Vaga. We have an asshole to hunt." Kuzuki's blood just about plunged into the sub-zero temperatures with hearing those three sentences.

The message was short and to the point before the connection was cut. The usually implacable face hardened further, calm grey eyes dulling into twin points of abyss as he moved to snatch the towel to wipe the sweat off his body.

He knew that transient peaceful days were too good to last.

He met Kiritsugu at their designated place. It was just a meeting between two friends to outsiders, or even two concerned brothers, considering their grim countenances. But inside, Kuzuki wanted to rain fire and brimstone to the miserable son of a bitch who had the guts to betray his Harry to the bastards.

And Kiritsugu was likewise incensed. Not that Kuzuki wasn't, but still, something within his fellow assassin's eyes sent a chill down Kuzuki's spine nonetheless, and briefly, he felt grateful he was on magus Killer's good side… for now.

"Who was it?"

A short question. Kuzuki didn't need to explain whom he meant with his question.

Kiritsugu glanced at him before striding ahead, Kuzuki falling to his side like they had done it too many times to count.

"Paolo Giacometti. 32 years of age, barista at _Cuore Azzuro._ Contact said he is connected to Terzo _famiglia."_

Two sentences that could very well spell the said man's near future in one single word - death.

* * *

Paolo Giacometti was living crazy life. Hot chicks, lots of money and tons of fun. He couldn't have asked for more - well, maybe he could have asked for more money, but the generous bonus his clients paid him for the inside information about that green-eyed cutie was a good consolation prize nonetheless.

He had been charming the dark eyed signora, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Carelessly turning his head he froze like a mouse in front of the snake when his eyes connected with the ones of the stranger, who dared to so rudely interrupt his flirting.

The stranger was a young man, clad in simple jeans trousers, dark grey T-shirt and black bomber jacket. His hair was wild mess, and his chin was slightly scruffy, as if he forgot to shave just this morning. He could've passed himself as a semi-fashionable _tourista,_ but Paolo had a sick feeling that there was way more to the man than his almost sloppy façade.

"I have some questions for you, if you don't mind." A cool, crisp Italian, but with a trace of a foreign accent that tilted those usually casual, harmless words into a dangerous territory.

Paolo gulped. It was nothing, right? Those two guys were not Terzo's - they were too oriental looking for that, and as far as he knew, he didn't have any deals with yakuza, right?

"Ah – " He awkwardly cleared his throat as to get right of the frog sitting there. "I don't know you, sir. Are you sure you have the right person?" He off-handedly winked to tis night's beauty, only for the woman to discreetly remove herself from his company, having already sensed that something was to go very, very wrong.

"We already have rented the room for us to be undisturbed. I insist." The same man continued - he couldn't have been more than a teenager, but something in his posture - his eyes - made him look older and colder than normal youths.

Helplessly, Paolo shrugged as he slowly stood up. "After you, gentlemen."

"No." The other man spoke out, causing Paolo to jerk with fright - how the fuck had he overlooked the other, if he was standing right beside that cold-eyed bastard – his dark grey eyes the most unrelenting wall in and of itself. "After you. I insist."

Paolo gulped.

* * *

Kuzuki didn't have any compunctions in breaking the man. If it had been old him after he had massacred his sect, he would undoubtedly felt guilty and even repulsed.

Guilt and repulsion, however, lost their place within his mind the moment Kiritsugu's voice called to him about Harry being in trouble yet _again._

(He had tried to feel guilty after he had disposed of the many idiots who insisted that he join this or that famiglia just because he was a strong Rain. Or something. Never mind that he had already given his loyalty to one green-eyed, messy haired bundle of trouble that was his friend. He had resolved to keep the trouble far away from Harry - and for the most part, he had managed spectacularly, as Harry didn't think that anything was amiss when Kuzuki came back from one or another of his 'shopping trips'.)

Last time he had met the goon from the Gabriella _famigila_ (the said goon had the _bright_ idea - _not!_ \- to use violence against Kuzuki), he had broken most of the bones in that idiot's body. It wasn't _that_ hard, but he hoped the gruesome sight would send a powerful enough of a message to the Idiot Collective to cease hounding him to join them.

"I am sure you already know which information we want." Kiritsugu's voice was casual, as if he was asking Paolo for a lighter to lit a cigarette.

"N-No?" Their prey squeaked out like a rat before he appeared to find a smidgen of courage and straightened his spine. "I haven't seen you before, so I am not sure what kind of information you two think to get out of me." He blustered as he tried to glare at both of the assassins.

Kuzuki blinked, half-amazed at the bastard's audacity.

"Ah, yes, _that._ But that didn't stop you from tattling on one of your customers to _mafiosi,_ did it?" Kiritsugu's voice was still casual, but the cold that crept into his tone said he didn't believe the man.

"I - " The man tried to play stupid again, only to squeak with pain as Kuzuki's fist buried itself in his liver, prompting him to hunch over with pain.

"A good, moral, _upstanding_ member of society." Kuzuki murmured, mentally already surmising which points to hit to cause the maximum pain possible. Reaching down, he grabbed the front of man's shirt and hauled him back up, causing the man to yowl with pain rippling across his stomach.

"Shame that your hobby seems to make profit out of our Sky." He ended. Their prey's eyes bulged out with horror.

 _"_ _Santa Vergina Madre!_ I didn't know, I swear I didn't!" The man babbled. _"Por favor,_ please, it was all a giant misunderstanding, I have an old _madrina_ at home to take care of -" His babbling ended in a screech of agony as Kuzuki decided to break his arm and twist it for a good measure.

"Would it made any difference if you had known it?" Kiritsugu interjected as he tilted his head, portraying confusion before he blinked, and the cold,hard expression returned back to his face.

 _"_ _S - Scusi._ I didn't know, I didn't _knooowwww-ARGH!"_ The man's babbling ended into another gurgling yell as Kuzuki broke his wrist on the same arm negligently.

The cracks of bones grinding against each other in an unnatural position they had been twisted into would have horrified any other person. Paolo was already ugly-crying, and there was a stench of piss and shit wafting from his person. Nobody who would have seen him now would have thought this was a suave, seductive man that attracted women's attention like honey would bees.

"So we don't have to care that you are a dirty civilian _rat_ whose little hobby is to play an information broker on Flame sensitives either." Kiritsugu concluded, kicking the place under the man's knee with sharp precision.

A dry crack echoed through the room and Paolo half-collapsed, saliva flowing out of his mouth from the corners in twin rivers of slime, the man himself completely helpless to stop it as he dry heaved with agony.

"Now … You will tell us everything about the green-eyed Sky… and if you are a good little _boy,_ we may decide to be _merciful."_ Kuzuki's voice could be likened to the voice of a death angel announcing his prey's doom.

"Yes - yes - , _si,_ I will just - " Paolo babbled, his eyes wide and unseen with panic. Kuzuki roughly shook the man, glaring at him. "We don't need your assurances. It's in your best interest to be honest." He growled at him, resisting the urge to use some of his more damaging moved on the idiot.

(Because breaking the bones was the _least_ of damage he could have inflicted on the bastard and still leave him alive while at the same time make an impression on him. And he just plain wanted to vent out some of his rage. Harry wouldn't have approved, his friend was really too soft-hearted for his own good, but Kuzuki didn't mind being a hardass if that would protect his most precious person.)

 _"_ _G-Guh!_ I'll talk, I'll talk!" Paolo screamed - or more like gurgled out.

Twin ice cold eyes glared at him.

"Talk."

* * *

Gabriella. Leone. Trago. Scavo. Terzi. Mari. Orsini. Seven Famiglias who were greedy enough to think and poach their Sky.

At first, little rat only babbled about Trago, but with some 'conviction' supplied from Kuzuki's side, he also expounded on the rumors that Trago was in cahoots with some of the others - a temporary alliance which would probably, maybe, _possibly_ mean more if they managed to successfully ensnare the Unattached Sky via the elements from their own families enough to forcibly entrench him into their mind.

"How did we overlook this?" Kiritsugu seethed. The Magus Killer was a supremely unhappy camper at the moment. "First Freccia, and now we have to deal with the utter bullshit just because the newest batch of idiots chose to completely disregard our warnings to. Stay. The Fuck. Away. From Us. What's next, Alaya sending her boy toy to get in on the action?" He hissed out, truly irritated as he kicked the wall to alleviate his frustration.

Kuzuki didn't know. His eyes flickered to the man lying on the cold floor, his single good eye looking at the pair with awestruck horror.

* * *

Paolo was in an agony. He was on the verge of blanking out - unconsciousness seemed to be the best idea ever.

 _"_ _Freccia...Utter bull - Warnings - away from us."_ His agony-addled brain recorded the shards of the smaller man sluggishly.

One word, however, stood up.

 ** _Freccia._**

Frec - the one _famiglia_ that had been razed into _smithereens_ and nobody -

Paolo's eyes - one at least tried to - widened with shock as in an instant of clarity comprehended what that meant..

Oh.

Oh. _Merda._

His luck couldn't be **_THAT_** bad, could it? Involuntarily, his single eye meet with the merciless gray orbs of his chief torturer.

The sinking feeling in his gut mocked him otherwise.

 _Death._ And either Famine or War.

 _Goddammit._ He should have listened to his _maman_ and said no to all that money.

Easy come, easy go, as one of the songs crooned about.

"This one knows too much." An offhand remark that made the still cursing messy-haired man to pause and turn to him.

Paolo's last sight was the gleam from the gun's muzzle - _War_ \- had pulled out from somewhere, casually aiming it at Paolo's head.

A sharp pain stabbed into Paolo's other eye, and the last sound his brain had perceived was a faint pop of a gun being discharged.

* * *

Kirei was not happy, either. The young priest was visibly exhausted from his jaunt through the catacombs in search for more information about the Flames and anything that could have helped them in removing that pesky little shard, and then Kiritsugu had served him the unpleasant news of Harry missing - yet again.

But at least this time they had a little bit more information to work with, Kuzuki thought grimly.

When Kiritsugu returned from his info-gathering, they converged into the living room with a map of Rome on the desk, some pencils and a stern warning to a certain kitty brat to keep his overly curious nose out of this particular operation.

The operation itself was simple to the point of stupidity. The three of them would divide the famiglas among themselves and then make a very strong example out of them via complete extermination.

Much to their relief the seven _famiglias_ in question _had_ kept Harry in a neutral place, so the possibility of them using their friend as a hostage was almost nonexistent. What remained was to … as ancient Romans would've said, _divide et impera._ Or better, _divide et necare_ \- to divide and… _destroy._

Kirei - Orsini and Trago, Kiritsugu had the Scavo, Terzi and Gabriella. Which left Leone and Mari to Kuzuki's tender mercies.

Both of the strongholds assigned to him were brimming with security, so nobody would have thought that anyone would've been insane enough to outright attack it. Infiltration, however, was a completely other ball game - a ball game in which Kuzuki excelled ad, even more so, what with his presence concealment.

Eleven to midnight. One more hour, and the ghost hour would come. In some cases, that ghost hour would be quite literal.

Exhaling an almost inaudible sigh, Kuzuki tilted his head as he once more looked over the building, mentally confirming his plan of attack.

Conceal. Get inside. Mix among them… and quietly kill them one by one...leaving behind a mute warning written in their blood. From the eldest to the youngest.

No mercy.

* * *

It was almost tragic how close-minded people could be when they feel completely secure. People had gone to rest like usual, tired from the day's work and anticipating tomorrow's great news in having a new Sky to lead them from obscurity of being an underdog of the Rome's underground.

Unaware that the Sky in question had on hand elements that were extremely unhappy about the Sky in question essentially being poached away from them.

And that one of the Elements - Death itself - was stalking their hallways, silent as his nickname, delivering swift punishment for their extreme transgression.

Old servants, barely grown up youths and young girls, soft-cheeked little girls and bright-eyed little boys, friends, enemies and lovers, innocent and guilty altogether… all had fallen into eternal sleep, never again to wake up to see the rise of the morning sun.

Kuzuki had looked over the halls, once again checking that he hadn't left behind anything that could have indicated him as a culprit. Not that he would have, but it was better safe than sorry.

Come morning, the fresh scent of the blood will become sickly stale, staining the air with its distinct aroma. Dark eyes looked toward the brightening horizon - it was already four in the morning, and nothing stirred in the house.

Kuzuki's hands had been stained with red, just like that time when he had killed the sect in revenge for having his most precious person been taken away from him, even if the time before he hadn't known about it.

But unlike then, this time, his action had been deliberate and cruel in his deliberation. Many would have called him a monster in human's skin. And Kuzuki - well, he wouldn't have to pretend to be anything else.

Because, in his heart of hearts, Kuzuki had been born a monster.

(Even if this monster's heart had a master and owner, this didn't make him any less of a monster.)

* * *

Taking advantage of the morning's mess and news reporting their handiwork, the three of them attacked the Seven's stronghold. Unlike their previous targets, the stronghold's defenses were completely pathetic – probably because their opponents had thought it was just a temporary measure and as such they didn't really bother to do anything more than usual settings - bodyguards, cameras, alarm systems and the like, all of it having been quickly overwhelmed by them.

The last one to finish was Kuzuki - but he wasn't so late as to not swoop down and sweep Harry in his hold.

His friend had glared at him, but Kuzuki glared back at him, undaunted of those wrathful green eyes spitting fire at him. Seeing that he wouldn't get his was - at least not this time, Harry deflated and let Kuzuki carry him out of the house, thus allowing the gray eyed assassin relax a little bit and continue ignoring the white-haired, dandy-looking addition clad in red and black a little longer.

But if the push came to shove… Well, Kuzuki wasn't about let himself being put down easily.

* * *

"Who is this fucker?" Xanxus was not nice to the newest intruder in their little abode. He lacked his Harry-dose, he didn't sleep and he was full-out pissed the three assassins had outright forbid him to follow along to their merry mission of destruction. So yeah, cranky.

"Language!" His little ponytail was tugged on as Iri scolded him, causing Xanxus to scowl at her. That little hypocrite, she was cussing just as much as he. He returned the glare at the freakishly tall man clothed in the weirdest mishmash of clothes ever.

The man was tanned, the golden tan offsetting the white of his eyebrows and hair, along with unnatural silver eyes. He was clad in black with silver accents and the cloak was red with some kind of a back skirt around his hips, with steel-capped shoes. In any other situation, Xanxus would've thought him to be cool. But not when he was -

"Oh, this is Kiritsugu's son. Be nice to him." Kirei casually interrupted Xanxus' thought.

-Kiritsugu's son. Xanxus nodded to himself thoughtfully. Yeah, that was it.

But then, there was something wrong with this statement.

Kiritsugu's son.

 _Kiritsugu's. Son._

Oh, damn it all to hell.

Just right now, Xanxus was out of the fucks to give. And it was just plain unfair.

" _You."_ Xanxus rounded to Kiritsugu, who blinked with confusion as the red-eyed little boy poked him in the middle of his stomach harshly, causing him to squeak and wince.

"You already have Iri. It's unfair of you to get another one so soon. Give him to Kuzuki or return him back to where you found him. No exceptions."

Kiritsugu spluttered, but his so-called son barked out a laugh at Xanxus cranky audacity.

"Hey, kid. Iri is his wife. So he kind of can't return her, you know?" The white-haired man smirked at Xanxus.

Xanxus gifted him with his flattest glare. "Iri is _five years old_ , you sicko." He snapped at the man, motioning at his little sister who was still holding his ponytail, delighting at Whitey's dumbfounded expression as he turned back to Kiritsugu, whose shoulders were now shaking with amusement at his 'son's expense.

"I changed my mind. Just return him. And tell them to refund you, because this one is obviously faulty."

Archer's mental form changed into cracked stone at Xanxus' judgement.

Kiritsugu?

He decided that Xanxus was his newest favorite person (aside from Harry, of course).

Kirei chuckled. Oh, the possibilities to tortu - ahem, _troll_ his newest prey... Maybe he would draft in Xanxus, just for the amusement's sake? Judging from the white-haired man's expression when he had seen Kirei in that stronghold, it would be an interesting way to unwind from his mostly useless search for info in the catacombs.

Kuzuki face palmed. If that continued, he would be gray before he reached his twenties... and considering that Kirei was apparently contemplating how to drive their newest addition batty via Xanxus' hearty help, the prospect wasn't a possibility, but a horrifying certainty.

Against his own will, however, the edges of his lips curled into a wry smile. For some reason, the action in question came to him naturally, while before Harry, it would have been a parody of a grimace on his face.

If nothing else, time spent with Harry and company would never be dull.

(Though Kuzuki made a silent reminder to himself to stock up on antacids and headache remedies nonetheless.)

* * *

 ** _Scribble_**

 _"_ _Your Mapo Tofu is terrible."_

 _Five words that made Archer's pride as an excellent cook irreparably dented. And what was worse, they came from that nuisance of a priest - Archer still couldn't believe the man was even allowed to mingle with normal people like that, but apparently Harry for some reason thought the world of shitty priest – Xanxus' description of the man in question, not Archer's - and Archer was unable to do anything._

 _But dissing his cooking prowess? Archer's silver eyes narrowed. That just wouldn't do._

 _"_ _And what, pray tell, was wrong with your portion?" He asked, his voice mild as milk, but his hand tightened around the ladle, barely managing to restrain him to use it as a makeshift club on the priest's head._

 _Dull brown eyes stared at Archer lifelessly. "It's tasteless. For all I know, I was eating a card box drenched in soy sauce for a good measure." Forked eyebrows arched at Archer's gob smacked face. "And you have the galls to call yourself a cook?"_

 _Slender white eyebrow twitched with irritation. "For your information, I_ am _a_ cook. _" Archer growled back, incensed._

 _"_ _if you are, then you are a very shoddy one. Harry, please rescind his cooking privileges, he is obviously an amateur compared to you." Kirei threw back at him before he addressed the green eyed wizard._

 _Shaking his head, Harry was helpless to do anything but chuckle with embarrassment at Kirei's childish way of dissing Archer. "Kirei. Archer's food is good, if not better than mine. Really."_

 _(Archer would deny it until his grave - alright, he was already dead, so sue him - that he puffed up like a peacock at Harry's praise.)_

 _Thoughtful now, Harry tapped the fork on his lip, unaware of two pairs of eyes followed its movement on his lips. "But maybe…Hmm. Maybe he could make your dish a little bit spicier?"_

 _Archer smiled pleasantly as he gave a nod of acknowledgement to his Master. Oh, he would make the bastard's dish_ spicy _, alright._

* * *

 _Next time the white-haired man visited the market place, he hummed a suspiciously cheerful ditty under his breath as he spotted a small bunch of something that looked like semi-dried out vividly red peppers, only this ones had a wicked tail reminiscent of a wasp's stinger._

 _His smile now a tad bit wider and a lot more wicked, Archer quickly poached the lot, happily paying a completely unreasonable amount of money for the sorry bunch, not even sorry that he had wiped out almost all the money for this time's shopping expedition._

 _His luck seemed to get better, and it seemed like Alaya herself wanted to help him humble that asshat of a priest a little._

 _How else would one explain the presence of premium Carolina Reapers in that particular market, really?_

* * *

 _Mapo Tofu, second try. Archer waited with a bated breath for the priest to finally get his due._

 _Instead, Kirei ate it slowly as he pleased, and even seemed to enjoy the extreme spiciness of the dish._

 _(Archer straight out_ cried _when he taste-tested the concoction from Hell, and it took a_ lot _to make him cry.)_

 _Forked eyebrows slowly arched._

 _"_ _Hmm. Maybe you aren't such a shoddy cook like I have thought you to be." Kirei hummed. Archer dearly wanted to bang his head against the desk. Or wall. Did that shitty priest have an iron - no -_ diamond _-lined stomach or what!?_

 _"_ _But next time, add more peppers." Kirei helpfully suggested him._

 _Archer would deny, deny and deny to the end of the world and into the next that he cried. And if he did, well, then… They were tears of professional pride, honest! But Archer couldn't help but think resentfully that Kirei could probably chew on Satan's own heart and come out only with a minor heartburn._

 _It was truly unfair. Despicable!_

 _(The rest of the Mapo Tofu version Hell was disposed with extreme prejudice – or it would have been, if Kirei wouldn't have taken a small can of the infernal concoction to his spar with Fon to spread the joy (or suffering, it was debatable at that point.). Much to his dismay - and reluctant delight - he found a fellow connoisseur of all things spicy.)_

 _(The second little can ended as Xanxus' makeshift weapon against some of the more unscrupulous idiots who thought him to be an easy target. It was an accident. Honest.)_

 _(Third one was classified by Vatican as the newest holy weapon against the abominations of the Netherworld. Kirei wasn't happy about that, but a promise of almost unlimited supply of funds - and with that unlimited supply of Carolina Reapers, ergo unlimited Mapo Tofu version Hell made him reluctantly agree to their proposal, although he postulated the 'recipe' had to remain a secret for the greater good of the whole (Truth: Kirei was just a greedy little bastard on the issue, wanting to keep the most of the pot for himself).)_

 _(Archer's lot in his new cooking life: cooking enormous amounts of Mapo Tofu version Hell and being constantly paranoid because he was kept in the dark where the contents of truly humongous pot vanished off to.)_

* * *

 **About:**

 **Carolina Reapers** _-_ Those peppers are current holders of Guinness record for being the hottest peppers in the world. On Scoville scale, they reach 1,569,300 SHU (Scoville Heat Units), unofficially, there was a case when the hottest individual pepper was measured at 2.2 million SHU.

An obligatory warning: Guys, if you want to eat those like dorito snacks - don't. In powdered shape, you can use them on the food, if you are a lover of spicy things, but eating a raw chilli pepper (whole) won't do you any favor, except for feeling intense suffering and heat. More info can be found on internet, as usual.


	34. Chapter 34

_**Disclaimer:** _ I don't own, you don't sue, we will be all happy campers that way.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ I got an absence of leave, health reasons. Hope I will get better soon, but until then, I am amusing myself with writing and reading. The ugly side of being a Counter Guardian raised its head, just for the kicks of it.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, give Archer a hug (if you dare), Waver makes an appearance.

* * *

 _There's a rumble in the floor  
So get prepared for war  
When it hits, it'll knock you to the ground  
While it shakes up everything around  
But survival is a must  
So will you stand with us?  
Can you feel it?  
Make it real and  
Make me feel it - _

_Hey-o, here comes the danger up in this club  
When we get started man, we ain't gonna stop  
We gonna turn it out, 'till it gets too hot  
Everybody sing, hey-o  
Tell 'em turn it up 'till they can't no more  
Let's get this thing shakin' like a disco ball  
This is your last warning, a courtesy call_

( _'Courtesy Call'_ by Thousand Foot Krutch)

* * *

Archer's feelings about being dumped into such a crazy - ahem, _eclectic_ group of people were very… colorful. On one side, it was funny as hell to see most of people he had known from his former - or _later now?_ \- life as young teenagers, but on the other side, he couldn't help but feel kind of freaked out at just how _different_ they were when they were young.

For example, Kiritsugu was much more hot-headed than usual- scratch that, Kiritsugu as Archer had known him was never a hothead! This one, though, could be a fire incarnate, even if something lurking in the back of those empty dark eyes gave Archer premonition that even as hot Kiritsugu ran, his cold fury would be even stronger - and much, much scarier. Emiya Kiritsugu was not a households' synonym to a boogeyman for Magi all over the world for naught, even as young as he was.

Kotomine, on the other side, genuinely creeped him out. Not yet such a… s _adistic_ man Archer had known him as, but instead, the priest in question became something much, much worse. A _troll_. The priest just plain loved to poke at the group's weak points, especially Kiritsugu's, and not even Harry, for whom Kirei felt genuine respect (and maybe affection? _What the_ _ **fuck?**_ _)_ was safe from his needling, as occasional as it was.

Kuzuki looked more alive and at ease Archer had ever seen him, even if the Servant got a sinking feeling in his gut that this version would be very troublesome to deal with. And there was this habit of his, to sneak upon Archer and scare the bejesus out of him… _somehow_. Archer didn't know how the man managed to do that, but it rankled him something fierce - and what made things worse, was that Harry was apparently completely unfazed - and the worst, _immune_ \- by Kuzuki's creepy little hobby. Archer had been a warrior for the better part of his former life, and in his little post-mortem ' _service_ ' he became even better. So it was downright _shameful_ for one such of a caliber as he that one itty bitty _assassin_ managed to almost kill him via unintentionally -yeah, _right_ \- inducing a minor heart attack with his appearance in Archer's personal space without any warning every damn time he wished to. _(Which was often.)_

Last, but not least, Harry. Silver eyes slid to a half-mast as he contemplated his most recent Master. Green eyes that reminded him of Tohsaka's, but much deeper and less shrewd, and tired - too tired for his years, kind, snarky and somehow the one person all three assassins - Archer didn't mince his words on the issue - called their most precious friend. Humming slightly as he prepared the batter for American pancakes, Archer shook his head with incredulity. The world had to be ending, one way or another, for those three to agree on a single person as their friend. Archer kind of pitied his Master for having to deal with the three of them, what with what they were. Seeing Harry accepting them without reserve - Archer had tried to tell him that they were dangerous - earned the Servant only an arched eyebrow and confused look before Harry claimed he had already known that, and that no, their side careers weren't a bother. In that moment, Archer couldn't help but feel a pang of loss and envy at the three of them to have Harry defend them so staunchly. His own hands were dirtied with the blood of millions, and he was still bitter about people turning against him when he had sacrificed his everything to save them –

 _-angered crowd chanting for his death, ungrateful to their savior, baying for his blood, the gavel clanging down, cementing the fate he had been foretold once upon a time by ancient sorceress -_

 _-reappearing in his inner world, waiting to be called out like an attack dog he had offered himself to be, instantly crucified by his own blades on the steep hill, hard red ground barely visible out of the steel blades littering it as far as his gaze reached, and in the blood red, dusty sky, there were enormous gears, suspended in the air, unmoving and rusted, their task finished, pain of his body being pierced rushing into him, only surpassed by the agony of failure churning in his mind, what if –_

"-Cher? Archer? _Archer!"_

Distant, dull silver eyes blinked, finally coming to semi- awareness, a warm hand clutching his right wrist, and there was a hand tilting his head down and then patting his cheek -

Oh _. Oh._ He blinked hard, the vision in his mind slowly dispelling back to reality, to those green eyes behind elegant frames that looked into his own silver ones, wide with concern.

"H-Harry?" His own voice was distant to his ears, as his mind was still submerged in the past, but the dual warmth - when had he dropped the whisker from his hand - ?

"Archer?" There was warmth on his head now, something that Archer's brain desperately grasped to ground him with, the rough pads of those slender fingers, too small for Harry's age on Archer's cheek, gently resting on the tanned skin.

"Come back to me, Archer." The voice asked him – _nobody asked him to come back, aside this one, this single voice, not a command, but a breath of air, barely heard over the rush of blood in his ears._ "Archer. Come _back."_

Something in his throat lessened - _how didn't he notice that he ceased to breathe again?_ – and he choked out a cough before inhaling the scent - familiar, homely one, of kitchen and then the one slightly strange, but not unwelcome, of pines and laurels and like the air after particularly strong storm.

 _If he had to give a scent to freedom, this would be it._ An errant thought snuck through Archer's mind and escaped just as quickly.

"Archer. Stand with me."

When did he kneel down? For that matter, _why_ did he kneel down? The scent came closer, enveloping him within itself, and there was body, smaller than his but just as solid, against his tainted one –

There were no swords. There was not the scorching dry air, embittered with sickly aroma of blood and distinct scent of blades, this was something else, something alive, something – no. _Someone._

There was a heartbeat against his own, the form folding against his body, a young, human-shaped, fragile vine supporting him up and up and up, until he stood on his legs against, his tailbone resting at the edge of the counter, the human-vine - no, this was a human, Harry - still in his arms.

"Harry?" He croaked, gulping harshly his throat parched as if he had gone through fire and brimstone, but this warmth didn't leave him, and instead, it snuggled a bit closer, one hand now around his waist, another still on Archer's cheek.

"Oh good, you are back. You had me worried for a moment here." There was a relieved smile on those lips, green eyes lightening up with happiness.

"I'm… back?" What a dumb question. Dazedly, Archer shook his head and then, he became aware that he was clutching to someone, as if afraid that this person would flee as soon as he let go.

"I came into the kitchen for a glass of water, and found you kneeling on the floor, not breathing and frozen. Of course I would be worried, you numbskull!" Harry snapped back, those green eyes flashing with irritation as the edges of his mouth pulled down in an unhappy frown before concern once again prevailed. "You okay? Do you want anything?"

"I…" Archer was at loss. He froze? He didn't remember freezing, just pain - and judging by the expression on Harry's face, his stupid mouth blurted that out without his consent. And only then, his brain felt recovered enough to helpfully point out that he was apparently clutching Harry like the green-eyed teen were some giant teddy bear.

Archer would deny to his dying day and beyond, but he definitely didn't yelp, or Alaya forbid, _squeak_ like some damsel in distress as he tried to get his hands off Harry's person, his face feeling on fire at the same time.

Harry, though, bless his soul, didn't comment on that, but both of his hands migrated to Archer's shoulders - twin brands on warmth - as he steadied both of them, apparently unaware of Archer's mortification and fervent desire to sink ten feet under with shame.

"I – no, I am alright!" Archer blustered. "I'm fine!"

Dark eyebrows rose with disbelief and those unique green eyes bore into him, glaring with annoyance.

"Cut the bullshit!" Harry snapped out, but then, softened his voice. "It's okay if you are not fine." A wry smile quirked his lips. "I don't feel fine either. So we both can be not fine. Okay?" There was an awkward pause in which Archer's heart swerved through almost complete halt to three thousand miles per minute, or at least it seemed like this.

"So… Pancakes?"

He couldn't help himself. He really couldn't. Archer's lips tilted up, and then a chuckle escaped him. The chuckle grew into laughter, tinged with a knife-sharp edge of hysteria.

"You know what?" He breathed out when he finally stopped laughing. "I would be honored to have you keep me company in my misery."

Hopeful green eyes looked up at him. "With pancakes?"

Ah, this was a territory achingly familiar – and most importantly, safe - to him. Archer's grin was still a little bit wobbly, and there was awkwardness between the two of them still (Archer didn't have illusions that Harry wouldn't tackle the subject sometime later), but for now, they could enjoy each other's presence, pancakes included.

"Yeah. Let me show you a trick to making especially fluffy ones."

 _'Maybe this time'_ , Archer pondered, ' _the war won't be so bad_.'

* * *

Iri was a lovable little girl, though Archer was truly dumbfounded when he found out that this time, Kiritsugu apparently got to Einzberns earlier - there was still ten years in the making until the Fourth Grail War begun - and she reminded him of Ilya, only a little less rambunctious, and apparently growing too.

The one that truly rankled him, was the only and one kitty brat, named Xanxus. Archer gnashed his teeth together when he remembered the brat in question.

Xanxus was the bane of his existence. Scratch Kirei, he could deal with him and his mind games, and Zelretch was impossible from the get go, everyone had to resign themselves to the old troll's mind games.

But Xanxus?

That brat completely tried Archer's nerves. Never, _ever_ in his life was Archer called or have been implied to be a pedophile, but Xanxus insinuated just that when Archer mentioned that Iri ought to be Kiritsugu's girlfriend. Okay, he implied that, honestly, but how would he have known that Iri of this timeline was just a little girl, anyway?

And of course, that little scene when Archer found out Harry's abode was equipped with kitchen. If there was any constant in his meaningless existence as a Guardian, was that he was Alaya's exterminator and his hobby of cooking to de-stress himself was a tried and true method he utilized every time he was called into existence, no matter as a Guardian or a Servant.

Nobody had complained about the arrangement - how would they, Archer's food was divine. And this time, Archer was additionally stressed out by a) apparently landing in not-wished-for existence as a Servant way to early, b) his whole understanding of this particular world was shattered into smithereens in five minutes flat, which was record even Zelretch couldn't beat, never mind Alaya, and c) a certain red-eyed, rude brat who claimed Archer to be a fake… son of Kiritsugu and demanding Archer be returned back as if he were a faulty toy or something. _Unbelievable!_

So Archer's way of commandeering the kitchen this time was a little - well, a _lot_ more forceful than his usually suave methods.

* * *

"Give. Me. The. Kitchen. Or Else." Archer breathed into Harry's face, ready, willing and able to kill for the Holy Land of Cooking.

Harry blinked with confusion but opened his mouth to give consent –

When Archer's head was knocked forward by some kind of ball and already dangerous distance was sealed with a kiss, tongues unintentionally tangling together, tasting each other's warmth and sweetness –

(Archer felt his cheeks warm at the memory. Of course he had kissed many women, but it was the first time he kissed a man, no matter how unintentionally.)

And Harry's taste was one Archer would try to replicate as soon as possible, cooking-wise –

(-But then, there came that itty bitty little brat and his completely ungrounded disdain of Archer's cooking prowess.)

"Hey, asshole!" Xanxus' dulcet tones resonated through the kitchen. "Stop bothering my _turista_ and get your lazy, useless ass outta my kitchen!"

( _His_ kitchen? _**HIS**_ kitchen? Archer's blood practically _boiled_ at the mere memory of kitty brat's words. Well, ex- _cuuuse_ him, but to whom exactly did Harry just give his explicit permission to use it, _huh?_ Certainly not that red-eyed ruffian!)

Both of them sprang apart like they were struck with live wire, Harry's cheeks fire engine red and green eyes huge, while Archer turned around like tiger whose tail was not only stepped on, but also cruelly twisted into a pretty little pretzel in the same breath.

(Thus, the Great Archer's cooking mojo was ruined in an instant, courtesy of Xanxus.)

 _"YOU SHITTY LITTLE BRAT!"_ The Counter Guardian roared out, the back of his head throbbing with pain and his eyes blazing with fury as he sprang after the red-eyed boy, who managed to squeak with alarm and hightail out of the danger zone he unintentionally caused with an innocent little fruit called lemon.

(The bump didn't last long, only for a night, but memory of it was not so easy to erase. Thus, Archer's grudge toward Harry's bratty ward increased by thousand points or so.)

Blushing, Harry hesitantly touched his lips, his eyes following the man's red and black clad retreating back, the taste of the other's tongue pleasantly tingling through his taste buds.

(Even as pissed off as he was, Archer couldn't deny that the unintentional kiss was… well, _pleasant,_ and he wouldn't have minded kissing Harry again, on his own free will… before promptly binning the thought and locking it into the deepest recesses of his mind. First come murdering certain red-eyed shitty little brat in the goriest, most painful way possible, and then he would be off to conquer the kitchen. If he would make the tastiest, most awesome meal for Harry in the process - well, no one needed to know.)

* * *

 _Ahem_. Onward to the subject in question.

Archer. Hated. Lemons. If only because they reminded him of that sour-faced little brat and his mightier-than-thou attitude.

The brat was rude, disrespectful, didn't give a shit that Archer was good ( _awesome, really_ ) cook and that he could've easily strangled him in his sleep or kill him outright, that weird Flame shit aside (Archer mourned his black shirt that was a victim to Xanxus' claws. But he got him back with a couple of foods that each aside, they were innocent enough, but together? Instant diarrhea. And Xanxus was just a glutton enough to _'sample'_ /steal all of them, so the retribution was deserved, really.), whined for Harry's attention, caused trouble wherever and whenever he went, (Harry or one or another of the assassins had to bail him out of it on a daily basis), somehow stole Archer's favorite brand of tea and substituted it with the same-smelling, but taste-wise, burning tires' _shit_ (where did he find _that,_ really?), corrupted Iri into participation to his trouble-making, and the greatest sin of all, dared to _sleep with Harry._

(Big eyes, an offhand mention that Xanxus had nightmare (yet _a_ -fucking- _gain,_ ) and Harry just about _melted_ into a puddle of goo as he all but snuggled the little liar into his own bed, never mind Xanxus' token ( _feeble_ ) protests on the issue. Harry and his bleeding heart, really. Couldn't he see that the little shit was lying for all he was _worth?_ )

Archer got used to the fact his danger senses around Xanxus were almost always blaring at full throttle. It became kind of a norm, really, and he had to decipher what they meant.

Sometimes, it would be a bucket of ice-cold goo on the doors. (Archer got a good laugh out of it when Kirei triggered that particular trap. Xanxus was subjected to an additional tortu - ahem, _training_ for his stunt. Shame the priest apparently gave him tips on _whoopee cushions_ of all things. Petty pair, the two of them.) Other times, banana peel (How _juvenile_ ). Xanxus also stole the food - especially sweets - like kind of humanized raccoon (not even half as cute), with Iri as a happy accomplice.

Of course, Archer wasn't innocent, either. He cooked foods Xanxus absolutely loathed for some reason or another - so vegetables in any form and shape were on a daily menu. And of course, Xanxus was also part of inspiration for the Mapo Tofu from Hell. He took great delight in teaching the little brat about etiquette and manners, and oh _yes,_ The Chores. With capitals. Washing the dishes. Archer usually wasn't so wasteful with pots and pans, but he always made the biggest mess possible in order for Xanxus to wash. (Considering he was doing it stealthily, with making an occasional mess on the days some of the others had a dish-washing duty, nobody had noticed it _… yet.)_ And of course, how to wash the clothes and iron them. Xanxus was a tiny brat, but he could mess it with the best of them. So of course it was a _great_ idea to teach him how to take care of his clothes to be clean, prim and proper. Xanxus tried to protest, but even Harry took Archer's side on that one, much to Xanxus' horror. (Thus began the story from Butler from Hell, or time Xanxus desperately wiped out of his memories as soon as possible - not that he didn't use the lessons gained henceforth to instill in Varia.) Furthermore, Archer had been all over the world, he also tutored the little brat in different languages, just for the kick of it.

Each day was a war, on one front or another. But seeking Harry smile and relax, to debate with Kirei and maybe tease and taunt Kiritsugu tiny, _ittty bitty_ amount with his cooking and seeing Kuzuki, whose fate had been so cruel, so relaxed and unwound… spoiling Iri and annoying Xanxus…well, Archer felt that this mish mash group of people, caught from all over the world was more of a family rather than just a random group, thrown together by improbable circumstances.

It was a special kind of heaven and hell seamlessly meshed together into one and the same tapestry, beautiful and ugly at the same time.

Smiling a wry smile, he got up, wondering what was Xanxus up to, and how exactly would get him back in training for the day.

And of course, Harry. His sardonically tilted lips took on a gentler cure, with usually cool silver eyes warming with fondness as he thought of his Ma – no, Harry.

(Harry had been pretty much peeved when Archer had called him that in private and then outright demanded to be called _Harry,_ no ifs, ands or buts. Amused, and equal bit flattered and intimidated, Archer complied, much to the ire of the three assassins and certain kitty brat.)

Happy days in hell, indeed.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Waver Velvet's biggest mistake, aside from entering Clock Tower, was to become temporary babysitter of the terrible twosome of little devils whose defining feature were red eyes._

 _Never mind that it was him who was at fault, at least indirectly. In an effort to build up the funds to get into England, he had to find some side jobs to tide him over until he got enough money for a plane ticket to London._

 _Being an eleven year old and looking more like a tourist didn't help his chances, either. So it had been pure dumb luck for him to bump into a teenager that day in the market he went to buy his lunch._

 _Not only had Harry paid for his food, he also invited him along, seeing Waver's woefully bland choice of food. Waver as his prideful, and wary self, thought first to decline it, only to be steamrolled by Harry's suggestion to be the minder for his little brother and sister while Harry would go around sightseeing with Kiritsugu._

 _Waver's first thought about the job, was inane and extremely stupid in its simplicity._

'Babysitting a few kids. Just how hard could it be?'

 _(Never mind that he was a kid himself, albeit one determined to walk a path of Magus.)_

 _Iri was, if one overlooked her being an albino, a happy little angel._

 _Xanxus… Xanxus was… a hellion who would chew out anyone's sanity, spit it out and then pretend it wasn't his fault._

 _Together? The duo was a pair of little_ monsters, _and Waver was left to hold their proverbial leashes._

 _How did Harry deal with the two of them was surely one of the Great mysteries, maybe even one deserving of a Sealing Designation, because surely, the two weren't ordinary children but little demons wandering the world… right?_

 _After that first day, Waver returned the sleepy duo to Harry, frazzled, his hair and clothes a mess, on a verge of tears and maybe – just maybe, about to strangle Xanxus but for some reason, he couldn't force himself to do the deed._

 _Damned decency. How Waver wished to be a little bit more corrupted to deal away with that - that - !_

 _Harry eyed him with sympathy borne from understanding (he had, after all, have to deal with the same troublesome twosome daily), and that just broke the dam on Waver's feelings of frustration, fears and helplessness completely._

 _Waver managed to hold it off until the demons were safely way from him, courtesy of Harry's dark-eyed friend, and then, he burst into tears._

 _A pair of arms wound themselves around him, and soothing warmth pervaded his being, and a part of big, yawning hole in waver's heart, left by his parent's passing, was slowly filled up with the warmth and hope as he listened to Harry humming a sweet, gentle lullaby._

 _Slowly, almost unnoticed by him, his eyes slid shut and he drifted off into dreamless sleep, enveloped in the scent of pines, laurel and what seemed air after thunderstorm's passing._

 _Next morning, he was besieged by the twin devils again._

 _(Xanxus would later claim Waver let out the girliest shriek_ ever _when the two of them pounced on his peacefully sleeping form.)_


	35. Chapter 35

_**Disclaimer:**_ I am just a writer who plays around.

 _ **Shout Out**_ : Sorry for the late update. Tangled with my monitor and only today I've won the battle. Yes, I say battle because the final war is still to be determined… _ahem_./ _awkward cough_ /. Don't mind me. / _glares back at the monitor_ /. Anyway, some tension still remains, Iri is the sole innocent here and there are a lot of headaches for Harry in the future.

 _ **Warnings**_ : _**AU**_ on multiple scales, Xanxus getting foul mouth (as if he didn't have it already to begin with)… and of course, standard Grail War shtick. _(Yay…?)_

* * *

 _(Can you, can you, can you)  
Can you imagine a time when the truth ran free?  
The birth of a song, the death of a dream  
Closer to the edge_

 _This never ending story_  
 _Paid for with pride and fate_  
 _We all fall short of glory_  
 _Lost in our fate_

( _'Closer To The Edge'_ by 30 Seconds to Mars)

* * *

It's strange how lives can intertwine so tightly, complete strangers going to friends and even more in such a short time. Barely a week passed since the newest addition to their little group – Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sheer overprotectiveness of his Guardians over him against Archer, but he settled on sheer exasperation.

His friends and Xanxus didn't trust Archer, and Archer didn't trust his friends and he seemed to have complete war against their kitty brat. Iri, bless her little heart, was the darling both of factions, so to speak, never bothered by their glares at each other, but spreading sunshine and flowers, metaphorically speaking, even if they seemed to be on the verge of throttling each other. Harry really envied her immunity to their little spats.

Harry, however, had to suffer being the sole person to be fought over in one capacity or another. The only one time hostilities usually ceased was the time of meals and even then barely, courtesy of Archer's heavenly food - Harry half-suspected his friends and Xanxus were leaving Archer live solely because he was such a good cook.

Xanxus, little shit he was, somehow managed to let out the fact that Archer had kissed Harry the very evening after Harry returned back to their little abode ( _The Incident_ , as Harry privately called it, happened somewhere in the mid-afternoon, with Archer being stressed enough about the unusual circumstances he had landed in to need extra fast access to the Holy Land Of Cooking, aka kitchen as soon as possible.

Luckily for the Servant, the assassins in question hadn't witnessed the altercation caused by Xanxus via innocent little lemon, and Xanxus' wise little ass suffered under Archer's hand. Which probably enabled the little shit to try and get Archer in hot water via revealing the sordid little fact of dandy-like man kissing Harry.

Xanxus may be young, but he was not stupid. He knew the three assassins were doing cow-eyes at Harry, even if Harry himself remained in blissful ignorance of that fact, preferring to see it just as friendly glances with a little bit more fondness than usual.

Harry shivered when he remembered that evening.

* * *

"Hey. Your fake son kissed Harry." Xanxus' casual mention of The Deed at their dining table to Kiritsugu - they were just having dinner - steamed rice with fresh green salad and spiced chicken, courtesy of Archer - was akin to detonation of atomic bomb in enclosed quarters.

Kiritsugu, who had happily smirked at Xanxus just a moment before, froze in the mid-chew. Harry felt the temperature almost visibly plummet toward sub-zero degrees despite the semi-hot evening outside the room in which they were.

Archer, who was clad in simple gray T-shirt - borrowed from Kirei, both parties very reluctant in taking their parts of transaction - froze like mouse under the glare of tiger as Kirei's stare zeroed at him, the white-haired man's eyes almost comically big as he looked from one very not amused assassin to another.

Iri gasped, her red eyed wide with surprise and fascination.

 _"Hm-m."_ Soichiro hummed, his own gray eyes calm as his eyebrows arched up, the picture of nonchalance, seemingly enjoying the simple fare. Harry's hair went up at the sound. Soichiro never, _ever_ sounded nonchalant, and that was a warning in and of itself! "Did he really?"

"Harry?" The green-eyed ex-wizard tried not to shrink under Kirei's eyes. "You look unwell. Perhaps you would feel better if I shrive?"

' _That utter little bastard. Shrive me, he says.'_ Harry wanted to laugh, curse and whimper in the same breath. Why wasn't his life normal for once, dammit. He slowly put down his utensils and took in a calming breath.

He was anything _but_ calm, though.

" Oh yeah." Xanxus visibly enjoyed poking the issue further. _"On. The. Lips."_ He enunciated every little word gleefully, relishing how they felt on his tongue, and even more how Archer seemed to pale with every little syllable twisted on his mouth.

Harry wasn't sure, but he probably - if he wasn't hallucinating - heard Archer emit a pitiful little squeak when three powerful glares hit his person. And any time now, World War Three would erupt because Harry's friends were ridiculously possessive of him and Archer had done the most unforgivable thing ever, at least in the three assassins' minds.

And oh gods, their eyes have already changed the colors and Archer was looking more creeped out by the second. Harry didn't blame him. The assassins were already terrifying with their normal-looking eyes, but make that dual-colored ones, the terrifying fact was upped times ten.

Like always, Harry was the sole poor bastard - ahem, _person_ , who had to diffuse the situation

"If anyone is in the need of being shrived, Xanxus, it's _you_." Harry finally spoke out, calm as cucumber. Keep calm, and maybe they won't eat you alive. Probably.

Xanxus scowled and hunched down, not happy with Harry's intervention in the matter.

The brewing violence in the air inching toward Archer halted a little.

"If you want to tell tales, then surely you shouldn't emit your own part in them, should you?" Harry quirked his eyebrows as the mulish-looking kitty brat. He suppressed a sigh, restraining himself from rubbing his temple. _Honestly._ He offered the sulking kitty brat a bland smile that clearly broadcasted Xanxus had gone across the line this time.

"And what was his own part in it?" And there was Kirei, scary as ever, especially smiling that kind little smile of his. Not that it was anything wrong with Kirei smiling - Kirei had a nice smile, but this one looked a little too much like that of a dragon's before pouncing on its prey. The priest also put down the utensils as he leant forward and cradling his head on the crossed out fingers under his chin.

Harry had to fight the shivers at the innocuous pose. It was _evil._ Pure evil. How could something so innocuous look so sinister, he would never know, but by God, Merlin and all that was holy, he never, ever wanted to land in the position against Kirei's Evil Pose ever again.

He sucked in a breath, his eyebrow twitching. This was so utterly ridiculous, he couldn't even… That little brat blurted out that he and Archer kissed - without mentioning his lemon-laden help, mind you, and there Kirei was, guilt-tripping him into _shriving_ of all things and looking scary as fuck when he was at it. Harry briefly looked at everyone else. Iri was fascinated, and by the stars in her eyes, Harry would undoubtedly star in one of her little fantasies - Harry didn't _want_ to know, Iri's mind was convoluted to the degree it could rival Luna's at some times – Kiritsugu looked like abandoned wet little puppy, and Soichiro somehow retained his dignity, but his stony glare also held the traces of hurt and confusion within.

And of course, the last one, the culprit of all that mess - Xanxus. Looking more smug than a cat that ate a canary and got rewarded for it with cream to top it off.

"Xanxus' little part was of course throwing lemon at Archer's head, thus he could also be culpable for that… ahem, kiss." He let out, throwing a slight glare at the troublesome kitty brat whose eyes at first widened with taken-aback surprise at Harry being willing to throw him under proverbial bus and then Xanxus scowled back at him..

"Traitor!" Xanxus accused him, his scowl even worsening when Harry glared back. "And who began first, _hmm?"_ Harry hummed silkily. If he had to suffer under Kirei's Evil Pose, he would damn well ensure to take the bratty instigator down with him!

Xanxus wanted to retort, but when he was also subjected to Kirei's Evil Pose, he blanched.

Harry fought down a wave of vindictive glee at the sight. Served him right – what the hell even gave the kitty brat such a dumbass idea to provoke Archer like that, really?

"And what about me?" Archer finally interjected.

"What about you, fake son?"

"What about you, dandy?"

Xanxus' and Kiritsugu's voices intermingled into one and judging by Archer's face, he didn't know which one he had been offended by more - him being called fake son or a dandy. But judging from his twitching eyebrow, Xanxus was leading in this little battle of insults by a tiny margin. Or was it Kiritsugu?

"I was also the injured party here! Literally!" Archer exclaimed, not amused at their disregard of his person.

"But you got Harry's kiss." And why did that little sentence from Soichiro's lips sound like Archer's doom? The three assassins' glare switched back to the Servant, causing the tall man to shrink back.

"Help?" Archer squeaked out, his wide silver eyes resorting to begging as he looked at Harry.

And the final hit came from the one nobody expected.

"Did he taste yummy?" Iri's big crimson eyes blinked in wonder as she innocently asked Archer.

That froze everyone at the table. Harry frantically motioned the little homunculus to be quiet but it was already too late.

 _Oh my god_. _Ohmygod_ , oh my freaking _god._ Harry wanted to whimper, and he was sure that his face was beet root red, judging from the amount of heat in his cheeks.

Archer opened his mouth and then closed them back. He struggled with answering the question or not. If he answered, he would be doomed. If he wouldn't, then he risked Iri's big, watery puppy dog eyes and that would be a fate, worse than death. But on the other hand, it made him remember Harry's taste and -

"Um. I plead the fifth?" He finally squeaked out, his cheeks flushed and looking like a little kid being caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"This is not fucking _America,_ you shitty _**trash!"**_ Xanxus bellowed at him as he jumped up, the chair screeching in protest and from then on, the seemingly peaceful meal devolved into chaos with Iri, sweet little Iri cheering them on.

Harry wanted to cry.

How was that his _life!?_

* * *

Many innocent dinner plates had been mercilessly murdered, with one humble table joining them in eternal rest before Harry finally had had enough and roared at them to quit it _right this instant,_ completely freezing the brawl right then and there, but not before the brawlers sustained some hefty damages themselves.

And of course, Harry had to be the one to treat them, along with heavily scolding all of them. Honestly, why was his first kiss such a big deal for them, really?

It wasn't for him - alright, he lied, but what was done couldn't be undone - Harry carefully avoided thinking about Time Turners there - and it wasn't so bad for his friends to be offended on his behalf.

When he asked them, nobody wanted to give him a straight answer, but Harry still made them swear that they wouldn't pursue the issue further.

Kiritsugu outright _pouted,_ Soichiro's face was stonier than usual and Kirei…Harry shuddered. Kirei's expression was the one of a quiet glee at finding newest, most interesting prey to date to poke at. Of course, the young priest concealed it with a solemn face, but it was already too late - Harry was by now proficient enough in reading Kirei's non-verbal language to easily discern that his friend was not entirely honest in his little promise to him.

But the most important thing was that they reached truce, however uneasy it was.

Still, the battle lines had been drawn that night, much to Harry's exasperation, and no one seemed inclined to further the truce more, aside Harry, and Iri was _so_ not a great helper here, either.

But Harry would take whatever he was given in the situation he found himself in, and until three stubborn boneheads that consisted of his friends admit just _why_ were they having such a beef over one innocent and _unintentional_ kiss, Harry was not budging on the issue either.

Aside that and Archer's surprising meltdown in the kitchen one early morning –

Harry sighed as he closed his eyes. He had been thirsty so he sneaked into the kitchen, not expecting anyone in it, much less Archer.

Archer, kneeling on the stone cold floor, with empty eyes, but something in his frame expressing such a pain and agony that made Harry physically _ache_ from just looking at the Servant.

That had been a man who lost everything. Completely everything, Archer had been broken until there was nothing to break at all anymore.

Harry had slowly coaxed him out of whatever horror Archer had been caught in within his mind, and even then, despite his steely countenance, there was something so very fragile in Archer's eyes that Harry swore to do anything to protect.

 _(Hope.)_

Aside that episode Harry found out that Archer was bitingly sarcastic with a streak of humor. The man knew many things - some would say too many, yet still looked at the world he found himself in with a wonder of a newborn (or rather, he looked like that at Harry himself, when Harry didn't look at him, much to the disgruntlement of Harry's friends and a certain kitty brat), always happy to help and having a hidden - well not so hidden – penchant for household chores and cooking. Harry had come to many a bicker with the tanned man who would be doing what, but aside kitchen which Archer commandeered for himself; both of them were content to share the chores - or as much as they could, given Archer's propensity for tortu - ahem, _teaching_ a certain kitty brat the wonders of taking care of them.

(Xanxus wasn't happy. But he was helpless in the face of Harry's approval of the setup, and Archer's stupid passive-aggressiveness over them couldn't be misconstrued as bullying because honestly, there were _life-skills_ there, so he had to suck it up and bear with it. )

(Archer's revenge _sucked.)_

Then, one day, Kirei came back from his excursion/research in catacombs with one piece of paper Harry would never even dream to see in this situation.

* * *

"A wedding _invitation?"_ Harry's eyebrows arched sky high in disbelief as he looked from elegantly penned words to his friend.

" _You are cordially invited to wedding of one Tokiomi Tohsaka and Aoi Zenjou. Join us in celebrating this auspicious event - "_ He paused as he calculated the dates. "This week's Friday?"

He was sitting in the living room with the wedding invitation being held limply in his hands. The sun was streaking in the room, creating a cozy sunspot where Harry was currently warming himself up. It was late afternoon, and for a change, he was alone - or at least, he was, until Kirei came and disturbed his nap. Yawning slightly, he curled in himself a little bit more.

The priest sat down beside him, close enough for Harry to catch a whiff of myrrh, blood and olive wood. Aside being a little strange, the scent comforted him, knowing whom it belonged to.

"Of course." Kirei nodded. Harry's fingers itched to bury themselves into his friend's hair - it was now barely long enough to reach his shoulders in a semi-wild disarray, giving the priest slightly messy look. Absentmindedly, Harry wondered if Kirei would shear the mess off- but he silently hoped he wouldn't - the look suited Kirei more than Harry would've liked to admit.

"But _why?"_ Harry didn't understand.

Forked eyebrows arched up as Kirei titled his head, an amused smirk on his lips. Harry had to fight an urge to smack the back of Kirei's head. His friend was just too cheeky for his own good, and right now, Harry didn't appreciate being taunted like this.

"Well, if you want to take it like this… You are being invited as my plus one." Brown eyes slanted mischievously as Kirei taunted him even more.

Exasperated, Harry shook his head. "Okay, then _how?"_ He narrowed his eyes at Kirei, daring him to mess with him even further.

Kirei widened his eyes, as if surprised. "Why, Harry, you _do_ know I _am_ a priest. I will officiate the ceremony, and considering I was invited to the celebration later on, why wouldn't I invite my best friend to attend the happy occasion with me?"

Harry couldn't help but to give him a stinky eye. "You could've warned me first!" He grumbled half-heartedly, but couldn't stop smiling in delighted surprise, however unusual it was. Though…Harry frowned a bit as he looked at Kirei with suspicion clear in his eyes.

' _What was Kirei up to now?'_

Kirei couldn't help but smirk at his adorably pouting Sky a little bit more. "But where would be the fun in it?"

Harry sent Kirei a bland smile before promptly slamming a pillow in his face.

* * *

" _No. Not Harry! Never Harry! Take me, instead!"_

 _A beautiful woman, her wavy long red hair tumbling down her back stood in front of the cradle, pleading with the hooded assailant whose only defining feature were glowing red eyes._

" _Step aside, you foolish girl. I want the infant, not you. Stand aside, and your life would be spared."_

 _The hissy undertone made the words slur together, sibilant like snake's hiss awkwardly translated into human speech._

 _Behind her – the baby was trying to awkwardly stand up, innocent blueish green eyes looking at the back of -_

" _Ma?" An adorable squeak let out the baby's lips._

" _Not Harry! Not my son!"_

 _The woman - baby's mother - was being exceptionally stubborn, not budging an inch._

 _Pale hand flashing in the warm light, the deep black of the slender piece wood held almost negligently within elegant fingers made it look like a reaper's scythe for some reason –_

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

 _A flash of poisonous green, intense and soundless, hit the woman whose back stiffened before her body soundlessly crumbled onto the floor, her beautiful green eyes sightless in death._

 _The man didn't lose time in stepping over her. Red eyes zeroed on the baby in the crib. The baby looked from his mother's corpse up to her murdered._

" _Ma?"_

 _The same hand lifted the piece of - no, a wand - once again, in the same negligent gesture, with the same words being hissed out, the speaker assured in his success, aiming at the baby's head, laughing a crazy laugh of victory._

" _ **Avada Kedavra!"**_

 _A familiar flash of poisonous green - but this time, it didn't touch the baby like it had with the woman. The sharp blade of light reached the baby's forehead, a claw of green light before beautiful golden orange light rose from the baby in a tidal wave, knocking the poisonous green astray - but not before it scratched a wound onto the baby's head._

 _However, it didn't stop only at that. As if enraged by the harm, the golden orange glow expanded, likening to a roar of a ferocious dragon as it swelled, pushing the green back to its caster in one ferocious wave, magnified in speed and harm tenfold._

 _The man didn't have time to move. It all happened too fast - his own curse colliding back with his body, the light exploded, the sight blinding any would-be observer, the screams both of wounded baby and the attacker muffled under the sound of explosion of energies before they died down, leaving behind a scorched room, a wailing baby, but the killer nowhere in sight -_

Startled, his teeth aching with the amount of _prana_ evoked in that strange ritual he had been a witness to, Archer woke up, his body soaked in sweat.

He should have been _unflappable_. He shouldn't have been shaking like leaf in a hurricane right now. He was a goddamn _Counter Guardian,_ for fuck's sake, but there he was, trembling like a newborn lamb, cold chills still going through his nerves as he pondered just what had he seen in his dreams mere moments before.

Those green eyes…That woman's green eyes were almost the same shade as his Ma - no, Archer corrected himself - Harry's.

He could almost smell lilies and sakura blossoms scented _prana_ evoked in the ritual - because it _was_ a ritual, even if it hadn't been evoked the traditional Magus way.

He could smell the sour/bitter/repugnant curse too - it wasn't the worst one, but it was bad enough to make him want to hurl.

Actually –

He shot out of the bed, stumbling, half-blind to the bathroom adjacent to his room - and bent over the toilet, emptying his gullet into the ever-patient porcelain goddess.

"W-What was _that?_ "

He managed to choke out, his silver eyes wide and sightless, but he already knew. The chills strangling his nerves became even worse, his strong body clenching as if defying the shock coursing through it by Archer's unconscious will, not that it helped much.

Archer never so felt as helpless as he did then.

This –

This was Harry's _life_.

The very beginning of it and –

Archer blanched.

 _Fuck._

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _The Mafia underworld was shaken with the newest strike of the Four Riders of the Apocalypse._

 _Seven Famiglias. They may have been counted as minor ones in the grand scheme of things, but banded together, their influence wasn't something you could call small._

 _And there was Alejandro Orsini._

 _The man had been outright tortured by La Famina himself, driven into madness with pain before he succumbed to the wounds._

 _One of the Mafiosi had the luck - or misfortune - of not being present in the house at the time of massacre, but he returned back in time to see the results - the mansion in flames, and he risked his very life to get into the burning building in search of the don._

 _Only to see the state he was in - cut off lips, nose and ears, the cut precise and cauterized leaving behind a gruesome sight, along with the man's stomach being clawed apart with giant, extremely sharp claws, shredding his innards into a mess._

" -a Awina." _His last words, choked out from the lipless mouth, muddying up the speech, but -_

 _-coupled with those claw-like wounds - there had been corpses of Freccia famiglia practically ripped apart in the same way, only not via torture like this –_

 _It was undoubtedly the work of La Famina, the Famine himself._

 _If there were any non-believers, then their words had been abruptly silenced upon looking at the two mansions filled with corpses and blood. Both of the strongholds were filled with the state of the art security, and it was practically unheard of for someone to just sneak in and kill not one, but every resident within the buildings at the time._

La Morte _. Death itself had visited them, for which reason, nobody knew. Those who did couldn't speak. They were, after all, dead. Even the most experienced investigators later on shamefully admitted that they had lost their breakfasts - or lack thereof - at the sight of the massacre. And it was a massacre - no one had been spared, not even children themselves._

 _The third one was the grandest and loudest and the investigators were just about to tear their hair out of their collective skulls in an effort to find out how in the ever living_ hell _did the assailant in question manage to make three buildings collapse within themselves without so much of a warning - the sheer operation was already mind-boggling, and even the foremost experts at demolishing the buildings were struck dumb at the scope of precision blasting involved in the process._

" _Whoever they are, they are veritable_ Da Vinci _at using explosives. Taking down one building takes at least two weeks of planning, never mind planting explosives and getting the rig working just so – " Fabio Aquino commented in the late evening news reports, his bristly white mustaches he was so very well known for, trembling in excitement as he motioned with his hands excitedly. "They are_ marvelous. _I would've hired them in an instant, no matter the price."_

 _And that, coming from the Demolition Master himself said a_ lot. _It also caused the investigators even more headaches because they now knew there was a loose cannon floating around, with the ability to sneak into the buildings and demolish them regardless of human lives involved._

 _It wasn't known whether it was War of Victory - common consensus said it was the combination of the two, but nobody could say for sure. To top everything off, there was also murder of one Paolo Giacometti - the man appeared to be tortured before his death, his knee and wrist bones broken with what seemed to be brute force, along with ribs, the last clearly broken in a manner that suggested an expert at work, before he was finally shot into an eye to forever silence him._

 _Investigators didn't know what to make out of that mess._

 _But to the rest of the mafia underworld, the message was as clear as it could be._

 _The Doomed Seven messed with something Freccia had had before their demise - and messed badly._

 _No. Not something._ Someone.

 _And that someone was a_ **Sky.**


	36. Chapter 36

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters, but I had fun making the story.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ As much as I love writing, this one went straight through the roof, word count-wise. I don't know why or how, but the story went off the rails because someone up here apparently loves Archer and his ways of trolling. As for next week, I can't say for sure that I will be able to update because I have a health check (had operation recently) and it will take some time.

 _ **Warnings:**_ **AU** on multiple scales, trolling ahoy. I think Harry's assassin friends get trolling EXP to the max somehow just from being close to him…

* * *

 _You told me_

 _To live as if you were to die tomorrow_

 _Feel as if you were to be reborn now_

 _Face as if you were to live forever –_

( _'REDEMPTION'_ by GACKT)

* * *

The Mafia underworld was shaken with the newest strike of the Four Riders of the Apocalypse.

Seven _Famiglias._ They may have been counted as minor ones in the grand scheme of things, but banded together, their influence wasn't something you could call small.

And there was Alejandro Orsini.

The man had been outright tortured by La Famina himself, driven into madness with pain before he succumbed to the wounds.

One of the Mafiosi had the luck - or misfortune - of not being present in the house at the time of massacre, but he returned back in time to see the results - the mansion in flames, and he risked his very life to get into the burning building in search of the don.

Only to see the state he was in - cut off lips, nose and ears, the cut precise and cauterized leaving behind a gruesome sight, along with the man's stomach being clawed apart with giant, extremely sharp claws, shredding his innards into a mess.

" _-a Awina."_ His last words, choked out from the lipless mouth, muddying up the speech, but -

-coupled with those claw-like wounds - there had been corpses of Freccia _famiglia_ practically ripped apart in the same way, only not via torture like this –

It was undoubtedly the work of _La Famina_ , the Famine himself.

If there were any non-believers, then their words had been abruptly silenced upon looking at the two mansions filled with corpses and blood. Both of the strongholds were filled with the state of the art security, and it was practically unheard of for someone to just sneak in and kill not one, but every resident within the buildings at the time.

 _La Morte_. Death itself had visited them, for which reason, nobody knew. Those who did couldn't speak. They were, after all, dead. Even the most experienced investigators later on shamefully admitted that they had lost their breakfasts - or lack thereof - at the sight of the massacre. And it was a massacre - no one had been spared, not even children themselves.

The third one was the grandest and loudest and the investigators were just about to tear their hair out of their collective skulls in an effort to find out how in the ever living hell did the assailant in question manage to make three buildings collapse within themselves without so much of a warning - the sheer operation was already mind-boggling, and even the foremost experts at demolishing the buildings were struck dumb at the scope of precision blasting involved in the process.

"Whoever they are, they are veritable _Da Vinci_ at using explosives. Taking down one building takes at least two weeks of planning, never mind planting explosives and getting the rig working just _so_ – " Fabio Aquino commented in the late evening news reports, his bristly white mustaches he was so very well known for, trembling in excitement as he motioned with his hands excitedly. "They are _marvelous._ I would've hired them in an instant, no matter the price."

And that, coming from the Demolition Master himself said a lot. It also caused the investigators even more headaches because they now knew there was a loose cannon floating around, with the ability to sneak into the buildings and demolish them regardless of human lives involved.

It wasn't known whether it was War or Victory - common consensus said it was the combination of the two, but nobody could say for sure. To top everything off, there was also murder of one Paolo Giacometti - the man appeared to be tortured before his death, his knee and wrist bones broken with what seemed to be brute force, along with ribs, the last clearly broken in a manner that suggested an expert at work, before he was finally shot into an eye to forever silence him.

Investigators didn't know what to make out of that mess.

But to the rest of the mafia underworld, the message was as clear as it could be.

The Doomed Seven messed with something Freccia had had before their demise - and messed _badly._

No. Not something. _Someone._

And that someone was a **Sky.**

* * *

In retrospect, the whole affair should have been dead and buried as soon as it had appeared. With Freccia, it was a happenstance. The _famiglia_ in question had obviously done something stupid enough to piss off the big shots - but what tripped the whole collective off was that nobody really stepped up to the proverbial plate and announce just why had they used the most extreme measures available.

There was also that little scribble implicating the Riders of the Apocalypse. At first, it was an amusing little thing, guaranteed to draw the attention of masses, if only a little while.

Whether it had been a called a senseless tragedy or an outright massacre, people were fascinated enough to talk about it. The underworld had been fascinated for whole another reason – despite Freccia being one of minor _famiglias,_ they were still substantial enough - their stronghold should have been secure enough to at least halt, if not outright stop any attempt on destroying them.

Yet, in the face of Riders, it had proved to be a fruitless endeavor.

Many had tried to find the culprits to recruit them for themselves. Even if they had been Flameless, their skills would have guaranteed them a good place in their factions anyway.

Not to mention the unofficial manhunt after all free and available Actives. Not that there were many of them, but, it was part of the course to look out for any prospects to further the manpower of their respective _famiglias._

Rain. Storm. And Sun. Each of them strong in their own rights. Strong enough to turn the heads of those in-know and seemingly unattached.

Rain was a simple, almost unnoticeable teen, called Kuzuki Soichiro. Seemingly unremarkable at the first glance, but a Mist he had accidentally passed, pegged him as a very strong Rain - they didn't know how strong, but if he were to be taken in and taught, he would undoubtedly be an asset few could be.

Storm was one scruffy, dark-eyed teenager with a penchant of wearing a leather bomber jacket. He had been noted to occasionally smoke. His name was Aizawa Kerry. Strange name, and at first glance, one would've thought it was a fake, but when they dug into the records, they panned out. So, maybe a half-blood?

Sun was the most ironic one. The ones who knew old Vongola legends - and who hadn't known these – remembered that Vongola's first Sun Guardian was also a priest. And this one - the priest - was also a Sun, although unattached one. Nobody, however, knew how strong or how weak he was. His name, however, was known to be Kotomine Kirei.

Enticing them with fame and riches failed. Threatening them went equally as bad, if not more so, considering that they hadn't taken well to being forced to join, even if that would have been for their own good.

Instead, the first time they had been threatened with physical harm, they retaliated via doling physical harm to the offenders themselves, sending them back to their _famiglias_ drenched in shame, pain and blood.

However, the Seven persisted anyway, amassing more manpower to bring them down. More people ought to have meant the three elusive Elements would have been easily subdued and caught - but instead, those men who had gone on that particular mission had been found dead. And the most frustrating thing was, even if the assorted _famiglias_ knew who had done the deed, they didn't have any fingers to point at, because no clues had been left behind to accuse the three of them anything.

If they hadn't known the names of their killers, their _famiglias_ would have thought the murders were works of ghosts.

But then, there was the biggest, shiniest prize of them all.

A _Sky._ An _unattached_ Sky. Scratch going after murderous porcupines of Elements - this Sky was obviously a civilian and so very easy to snatch and grab and especially _convince._ Some threats, some promises - and the little Sky would fold into the Cosa Nostra, as it was his duty. And the seven _famiglias_ in question would finally - _finally!_ \- enjoy the prestige that was afforded to _famiglias_ with strong Skies.

But everything had gone wrong the very same day they executed seemingly flawless plan. Of course it had been too good to be true.

The Sky they had thought to be Unattached, up for grabs for anyone who got him first, was not intimidated by his apparent 'destiny'. And when they sneaked in some unattached Elements to entice the lonely Sky into bonding with them - all the strongest and the best available, of course - it only seemed to piss the said Sky off.

Later on, if one of them would have been asked, the said Elements in question would answer that it was like hitting the wall full throttle while simultaneously trying to solve a very complex puzzle which at first glance seemed so easy even a child could do in five seconds flat.

No matter what they tried - even bringing out the brunt of their Flames - they simply couldn't match this Sky.

They tried. They tried until they had been on the verge of being burned out. But this strange civilian Sky stood there as if mocking them, those unusual green eyes glaring down on them, angry, defiant and promising retribution for their deeds.

It would've been laughable if it wouldn't have been so frustrating in the same breath.

There was also unpleasant intermission of three of their strongholds being blown up without warning.

No witnesses on who had done the deed but it had been so masterfully executed that there was really only one culprit who could have done that.

The Riders.

However, the question was _why,_ and _why now_ out of all times. The Riders were an outside entity, vanishing without trace after annihilating Freccia. What had pissed them off now? And surely, it had to be a coincidence -

Two hours after, late night news about three building collapsing on their occupants heads had been replaced with the ones of another two houses going up in flames. Coincidentally, it was of another two _famiglias_ who were at time trying to court the stubborn little Sky currently ensconced in the guest room. And if the rumors were to be believed, Alejandro Orsini had been tortured before his death.

Only two _famiglias_ of the beginning seven remained, and when they had made a mandatory check nobody noticed that there was anything amiss.

Six in the morning, the newest tragedy had been unveiled to the already shell-shocked city. The last two _famiglias_ had fallen too - maybe not with a bang, but they had gone into the eternal night silently in their sleep, the rooms of the houses decorated with their own blood - only, there weren't any steps to identify the murderer. It was as if they had been killed by a vengeful ghost. Or better, Death itself.

Once was happenstance.

Twice was coincidence.

Thrice was an enemy action… and this time, their enemy was the Riders of the Apocalypse themselves.

An all too apt name for them, considering they had wrecked damage on an unheard of scale, too audacious by far, yet leaving no traces after themselves.

The ones who had seen them inevitably died one way or another. And now, those four monsters were coming after them and heavens and all the saints protect them –

-but there was all too bitter reality of knowledge that it was too damn late to beg for any divine protection. In this kind of work, prayers weren't the ones to be relied on.

They had been proven right.

It took three of them - a priest, some non-descript person and a gunner clad in bomber jacket, and what was even worse, they broke through their defenses like hot knife through butter, those flames snarling around them like starved dogs, baying for blood and not calming down until they would get it and more.

But.

There was another one.

Vivid red and black. White hair, tanned skin and silver eyes and _too goddamn_ _ **tall.**_

The man appeared practically out of nowhere after Ettore had shot the Sky with gun.

" _Che diavolo! –_ " Luigi managed to spit out, completely freaked out.

 _What devil_ , indeed.

* * *

The devil with twin sabers, one white and one black, who didn't have any compunctions of springing toward Ettore and practically bisect him with the black blade as if he were nothing but a bundle of straws, Donatello ending with a shattered skull in short order and any time now –

"Fire! _Fire_ , damn you!" He didn't care he was hysterical. This - this man was a goddamn beast, no, _monster_ and Luigi wanted to live, fuck his comrades and goddamn fuck to all hells and beyond that _thrice damned bastard Sky - !_

This was his last thought as he felt a sharp pain go through the right of his neck almost at the same time when something sharp and painful and wide pierced among his third and fourth rib straight to his heart –

* * *

There was a strangled shriek - a horrific yell, which elongated itself into an agonized screech intermixed with maddened laughter.

The sound was terrible enough to make even most hardened Mafioso cringe or flinch away from the doors behind which the terrible experiment had been happening.

* * *

"Any news?"

A stern faced man asked the faceless man in front of him. His hair could be likened to a lion's mane - black with a single blood red stripe through it. His face was rugged, with a cross-shaped scar on his square chin. He was clad in elegant gray suit, lazily petting completely white eagle on his wrist, humming to the animal softly as he admired it's elegance.

He was sitting behind the desk that was probably worth thousands, on a black leather chair that barely held his frame, his unusual golden eyes looking at the thin, almost scrawny man in front of him with lazy indifference.

Arnaud Dubois was, on the first glance, just a stupid jock. But anyone who had thought him a brawn with no brains had been in for a very unpleasant reality check if they tried to swindle him.

His nickname _Leone di Ferro_ was telling enough that the man was not one a person would wish as an enemy. The _Iron Lion,_ as other acquaintances knew him, was ruthless and not one to take tomfoolery easily.

"No, sir. We had Mist to try and take the memories of the boss of Trago _famiglia_ … but without success." The faceless man grimaced standing in front of him rubbed the bridge of his nose, irritated, utterly exhausted and not a little terrified.

Arnaud Dubois didn't tolerate failures, after all. And that latest try was utter failure at its truest.

"It doesn't make any sense." The faceless man growled out, suddenly angry at the failures himself. "Those seven had tried to make a coup with that Sky at the helm, that much we know, but from then on – " He halted as if hesitating to talk about it more.

"From then on?" Arnaud hummed, quirking his eyebrow as he lifted his right wrist, causing his feathery companion to screech with annoyance.

"That's what it's strange, Sire. They say they went after three Flames - very strong ones. Storm, Rain and Sun. But from what we've managed to get out from the Mist, it was as if there were all six of them."

Arnaud paused in petting the eagle. Golden eyes narrowed at the grunt. _"Six?"_ He questioned, his voice soft, too soft for such a brutal man.

"Six. Or… Seven. Honestly, we don't know, the Mist was already half-mad when he had gotten in touch with those six, something about them being wrong, and the last one was apparently too much to handle for him."

Thick black eyebrows quirked as golden eyes glared at the quivering faceless man.

"You are telling me we've _wasted four Mists_ and _none_ of them came close to the identity of the last one?"

Arnaud asked, his words stilted with fury as his face darkened thunderously.

The faceless man cringed.

"No. We know the names of the Riders – "

 _ **BANG!**_

A fist slammed on the desk almost causing the massive wood to crack under its duress, causing the eagle to flutter to its wooden perch with an offended screech.

"You found _**jack shit!"**_ Arnaud finally lost his patience, booming at his cringing underling.

Six hours of something that was close to Necromancy - they skirted Vindice laws so close it wasn't even _funny_ , they lost _four_ goddamn Mists, and what did they have to show for it?

Four names that were most likely fake - there were no such people in the system, and they ran CAI check through them five bloody times, only for them to come out empty, and the only one clue - the only goddamn _clue_ that could get them closer to their target, those fucking useless Mist trashes couldn't decipher because what? It was their goddamn bloody _time of the month_ or something?

"Sir – "The faceless man hesitantly began again, only to be stopped by a raised head.

"Do I have to do _everything_ by myself?" Arnaud snapped out, his golden eyes now fully ablaze as he loomed across the desk, the picture of completely pissed off humanized lion as he snarled down at the idiot in front of him.

"While I am grateful as _fuck_ that someone had bloody wiped those _shit stains_ off the earth it doesn't mean they aren't fucking _loose cannons,_ ready willing and _able_ to _slaughter_ masses of people just because some imbeciles would be stupid enough to have a _bright_ idea to steal the brat from them and - "

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the already brewing headache in the back of his head roar into full migraine at the implications.

"This Victory. _Dio mio._ Three of them were bad enough. But Victory - whatever he is – " He wearily shook his head.

Four Mists. And all of them driven to insanity when they looked upon this green-eyed brat's ace in the hole.

Death, Famine and War had been terrible enough on their own - crashing strongholds of seven _Famiglias_ around their ears in one night was no mean feat, but _Victory_ \- Arnaut got a sick feeling in the very pit of his stomach that if Victory were to be truly unleashed, the damages done wouldn't be recounted as tragedies - however terrible they had been, but mere statistics – because his body count wouldn't be in mere hundreds but thousands, or - _God forbid_ – millions.

And now he was presented with the unenviable task to feed that particular bitter truth to his predecessors. He held back a grimace.

He could already predict they won't be happy about it.

(STELLA wasn't happy place any way he looked at it. He had to be a true god-damned idealistic _idiot_ to have pushed his nose in things that didn't concern him, and look where that had landed him.)

And he would inevitably get an ungrateful job on planning how to _detain_ that particular _ghost_ , just in case.

Arnaut felt his migraine increase as if cheerfully agreeing with his grim assessment of his future, and he really, really wished for Tylenol.

Just _wonderful._

 _NOT._

* * *

"Ah.. _Choo!"_ Archer sneezed forcefully, causing Harry to look at him with concern from his book.

" _Gesundheit,_ Archer. Are you alright?"

Sniffling slightly, Archer rubbed the underside of his nose. The tall Servant right now cut a pretty comical sight, what with his strange uniform covered with pink apron with frilly apron strings and with a ladle in one hand.

Archer flashed him a quick smile. "Probably someone thinking of me," He joked, smirking at Harry's arched eyebrow in return.

Exasperated, Harry shook his head. "You are incorrigible." He told his Servant fondly, but closed his book anyway, and only Archer's warning glare kept him on his chair and from any kitchen-related tasks.

It was relatively mild mid-afternoon, what with Kirei vanishing off into catacombs once again, Kiritsugu was torment –ahem, _teaching_ Xanxus the finer points about guns, not that the kitty brat minded, but minded the gun drills very much (Kiritsugu was a veritable asshole in making him execute them, especially dismantling and reuniting the gun parts, and not, Xanxus had come far enough for the bastard to mix and match different parts and Xanxus had to piece the right parts together all by his lonesome. To make matters, worse, he had to have on a blindfold and he was under time limit. Suffice to say, Xanxus very much regretted opening his mouth and announcing that Kiritsugu's fake son got the balls to smooch Harry. Harry, however threw him to the wolves and Kiritsugu was the first one to call dibs on horrified Xanxus' punishment, not that the other two had been any more lenient than the Magus Killer.)

"Eh, you love me anyway." Archer smirked back at him impishly, making Harry groan with exasperation at the man's flirty ways. Half the time Harry wasn't sure whether Archer was serious or was… how Kiritsugu called him - a dandy of the highest order.

But… Harry held back a frown. The last two night, he had strange dreams - about Archer and world turning into flames, and Archer before he had been turned into… that, an archaic assassin, a force of good in the chaos of evil, armed only with his bow and a smile, always happy to help, to share with the orphans his last rations, and always turning the path of good even when things got down to the drain.

He vividly remembered the image of Archer in the backdrop of burning buildings, with strange, pitch black bow and arrow notched into the bowstring, his sand-colored ratty cloak billowing in the wind. Tanned face was serious, those warm golden eyes - Harry wondered about the color - awake and alert, resolutely looking into the distance to some unknown opponent, doomed to death, different swords littering the ground around him - from broadswords first and foremost to more slender and elegant sabers along with strange - falchions - the words popped in Harry 's mind - always in Archer's reach. The only thing to protect his torso was armor - strange, mish-mash looking sleeveless shirt that hugged the contours of Archer's body like second skin

If there was anything that could be concluded out of those strange, mis-matched images, it was that Archer was truly worthy of his title. Never missing a shot, watching him to use that enormous bow of his was like looking poetry in motion.

Harry forcibly suppressed a flush on his cheeks as he mentally face palmed. It was admiration for the man's skills, nothing more, nothing less! He really, really didn't have time to play a puppy drooling after big bone now - !

He opened his mouth to ask Archer about those dreams and their meaning when the cold pervaded the room, causing his instincts to go haywire.

"Harry – "

Kiritsugu's voice floated into the room, preceding the young man's arrival, but Harry's eyes were on three black holes warping into existence in front of him, letting three bandaged forms wrapped in blackest of the cloaks step out of them – no, maybe not so much of a step but glide or warp right through.

The scent of darkness - if there was something that smelled like it, those three definitely exuded it - pervaded the room.

"Harry James Potter. You and your helpers are arrested for massacre of Freccia and the Seven." The tallest one announced, his voice horribly raspy and gravely as if the man - person was choking on his own voice for some reason.

The sudden guest raised their hands, and suddenly, there were black chains shooting toward Harry like livid snakes made out of links and Harry got a bad, bad feeling that being hit or even touched by one of them would be the _worst_ idea ever.

He dived on the floor, barely managing to dodge the attack, while the shots echoed through the room, the bullets moving black ribbon-like chains away from their intended target.

"It's usually good manners that a person, who enters someone home, introduces himself." Kiritsugu's voice was sub-zero, while his empty eyes darkened even further as he glared at the intruders.

The intruders paused as they looked at the Magus Killer. "Why should we explain ourselves to murderers?" The smallest one snapped out. Seemingly ready, willing and able to lunge forward and quarter Kiritsugu with a knife he held in his hand quite slowly and painfully.

"As I said, good manners. Also, what kind of authority do you have to just break and enter this home?" Kiritsugu shot back, eyeing them carefully, his finger on the trigger of his gun, his brain furiously calculating on how to use Accel before those bandaged maniacs take Harry away from him.

Nobody noticed Archer's silver eyes widen with recognition and then narrow with displeasure - both Harry and Kiritsugu were too busy with the live mummies, and live mummies in question had their backs turned to Archer. Archer's hand squeezed around the ladle like it was a club of some sort, but he kept silence, wanting to find out how this farce would turn out.

The tallest one raised his hand, promptly silencing his vertically challenged companion's retort.

"This is unusual, but very well. "he rasped out. "We are Vindice, the overseers of Mafia and you could say were are judge, jury and executioners in case their crimes become too… shall we say, unpalatable."

Kiritsugu's eyebrows shot up. "And when, _exactly,_ did you intend to gather evidence from our side?" He sniped, thoroughly irate now. "When we were cold corpses?"

"That's always an opti – _Ouch!_ "

The middle one yelped as the tallest one whacked the back of his head. Harry chuckled, drawing their attention to himself. He offered a small, tense smile to the entities he was fairly sure they were male, if he guessed by their voices.

"Sorry." He shook his head. "But I really don't think we did anything wrong there." He became serious, green eyes blazing the eerie color of the Killing curse as he glared at the uninvited intruders. "And if you want to take them away from, me, then this will happen over my cold, dead body."

The live mummies as Harry began to call Vindice in his mind didn't bother to take Harry's declaration seriously aside from their leader tilting their head and speaking the verdict.

"You are an accomplice, then."

" _ **Who**_ exactly is an accomplice there?" Archer's words were mild as milk, but the Vindice snapped to attention, their back straight and stiff as if they were on military parade before slowly turning to the direction Archer's voice came from.

The smallest one let out a muffled shriek upon seeing menacing Archer in frilly pink monstrosity of an apron, wielding ladle like some kind of a club, the tanned man's face stretched into a pleasant smile, as if the most feared enforcers of the underworld were nothing but disobedient children.

The middle one scuttled back, whimpering as he tried to use the tallest one as some kind of a shield.

"U-Um... Sorry?" The tallest Vindice's voice came out as a squeak married with whimper. Harry blinked, bemused at the change of atmosphere. Seeing Archer be completely passive-aggressive, looking like he wouldn't do harm to a fly, and then there were those shaking mummies, flinching at Archer's every idle swing with that seemingly innocent little ladle.

"Now, now, boys. Surely you can take some time to explain your fantastic reasoning just why do you want to put to death my Master?" Archer's smile was still that of a harmless housewife, dialed up to ten, eliciting another slew of whimpers, this time from both smaller ones.

"A-Ah, apologies!" The tallest one bowed a nearly ninety percent bow, much to Harry's confusion and Kiritsugu's surprise. "T-this one wouldn't dare!"

" _Hmmm?"_ And was that just Harry, but did that little ladle glint particularly menacingly right now? "Explanation, please?" Oh, Archer was now just being a bitch for the sake of being a bitch. Mentally, Harry face palmed, but he still listened with half an ear to Vindice babbling their apologies – or, in this case, explanations.

"W-we got the notice that the Riders of Apocalypse had wantonly destroyed both Freccia and the Seven! The crime is punishable with death, but if it's you, then – "

The Vindice's nervous chatter was cut short at the merest twitch of Archer's eyebrow.

"If it's _me_ , then _what?"_ Archer asked, his voice still mild, but Harry felt a storm brewing behind. "You Vindice always brag of being impartial and honest to a fault, and yet, what did I have to see there? You three breaking and entering, not even introducing yourself and explain to the guilty party the why's - and for your information, they are _civilians_ – "

The last word had to be some kind of a curse for Vindice trio to jerk back as if shot, but Archer was not finished yet. Not by a long shot. " – and if _any_ of you did your homework _properly_ , then you would find out that they acted in lieu with their right as _Elements_ to their _Sky._ Or has Vindice _failed_ to condone and _uphold_ the sacred bonding of Elements to their Sky?"

A pause stretched between them, so sharp that one could cut themselves on its edge.

"Elements?" The tallest Vindice echoed, now clearly fumbling for more information on the case. This time, it was Archer who groaned with exasperation as he pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the imminent headache from dealing with those guys.

"Yes. _**Elements."**_ Archer repeated, as if telling that yet again to a toddler. The four mummies may as well be that, but really, Archer was truly out of fucks to give.

For Vindice to try and take away Harry because Harry's three idiots were overzealous in their rescue efforts, however lawful they were, was already bad enough, but when Vindice unintentionally tried to take Harry away from _him_ , then there was when they stepped over the line.

He left the ladle in the nearby sink and purposefully stepped toward them, causing them to flinch and dart away - ahh, just like he intended, leaving him free path to Harry.

To Harry, whose eyes behind those slender frames were huge and green and questioning but full of trust. To Harry, who was willing to lay down his very life for those self-same overzealous idiots, and Archer didn't have an iota of doubt that the green-eyed ex-wizard would have done the same for him if need be.

He flashed Harry a small, reassuring smile, completely disregarding the warning sound of Kiritsugu's Contender lock-and-load mechanism as he got behind Harry's back, placing both hands on those still all too fragile shoulders. Then he lost his amicable façade and outright glared at the three idiots in front of him.

"And to top of it all, Harry is my _Master."_ Archer fairly hissed at the now petrified Vindice. "And please _**do**_ denote that tiny, _insignificant_ fact in your oh-so-lawful _minds."_ He felt his circuits hum and buzz, ready at a moment's notice to project Kanshou and Bakuya.

Archer was fairly sure that if the Vindice wouldn't have had their faces covered by bandages, they would've blanched the sickly white.

"Knowing what I am, do you still insist on taking him to your little rat hole of a prison?" He now practically towered over the miserable wretches.

The smallest one crashed on his knees, bowing to a very unamused Archer, practically kowtowing with fright.

" _I – Il Guardiano_ \- we - we didn't _know!"_ He practically choked out, cringing into a very small ball of black fabric as Archer's glare went up a notch.

Make that several notches. Archer let the stew and sweat for several long minutes before he spoke out again.

"I wonder where did justice end and bigotry with malpractice began to run rampart." His voice was cold, emotionless, causing Harry to look up at him with concern as he raised one hand placing it on his Archer's hand lying on his right shoulder. He got back a tiny squeeze, but no other reaction.

"This time, I will let you off." Archer paused, and the three Vindice just about changed in puddle of relief in front of Harry, only to stiffen at Archer's severe voice once again.

"But if I find you've done something like that one more time, I will not spare you, you being enforcers be damned."

Steel gray eyes looked at the quivering bunch uncompromisingly.

"Are we _clear?"_

The Vindice nodded furiously.

"C-Crystal!" The leader managed to squeak out before those mysterious black holes opened again. Sketching a hurried bow, the trio literally tumbled through them in order to get as far away from the silver-eyed monster as possible.

A minute later, the air in the kitchen smelled only of a delicious stew and good coffee.

And Archer? He smiled at Harry an affectionate smile.

Harry lightly glared at him. While he was relieved that Archer put down the law for those beings to leave Harry and his ragtag group of friends alone, it also raised questions just how could Archer afford to wield that kind of authority.

Distantly, he felt Kiritsugu exhale a relieved sigh and the safety on the guns had been locked on again.

" _Fuck._ For a moment I thought we were goners." Kiritsugu murmured to himself, slumping into the nearest chair, his fingers already in shaky pursuit for his pack of cigarettes.

He lit one, his face weary with the stress that had upended on him in those few minutes those fucking Vindice bastards practically broke in their sanctuary.

"Archer. What was that?" He addressed his tall, white-haired not-son.

(He refused to accept that any son of his would be taller than him. _Just not possible.)_

Archer let his circuits cool down, and in an effort to distract himself, he half-hugged Harry. Letting out a devious chuckle, those steel grey, sword-like eyes looked at semi-irritated magus Killer.

"Let's just say it was a question of food chain and leave it at that."

* * *

(Somewhere in a distant future, a one-year old heir of a certain clan living in Namimori sneezed cutely before continuing to glare at his nanny in an effort to persuade her to fed him meat.)

(This was the very beginning of what was later named as _Great Hamburger Steak Revelation_ and denoted little Kyoya's first step to being a carnivore.)

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

" _I am a Counter Guardian."_

 _Kiritsugu stared at Archer flatly._

 _Archer was clad all in black, like some kind of a fashionable villain - heavens knew the man couldn't go out of the house without one or another of those pesky fashion designers to beg him to be their model. This time, he had on black, leg-hugging jeans and black shirt with two uppermost buttons left off to show off the hollow of the man's throat and a slender chain, made of mithril lying upon the tanned skin. Feet encased in designer shoes, also black._

 _(Harry's gift, Kiritsugu remembered sourly.)_

 _Kiritsugu eyed the man up and down again, irked by the smug smirk on his face and feeling vastly underdressed for some reason._

 _Archer was the type that was effortlessly elegant in any clothes he donned… and that pissed Kiritsugu off for some reason._

" _Nope. Not seeing it." Kiritsugu retort was flat and Archer's eyebrows rose in mocking askance._

" _You are a dandy. I bet you can't hit even the wide side of the barn, never mind being a Counter Guardian." Kiritsugu shook his head mock-mournfully. "What a useless son I am cursed to bear." He rose his arms as if in despair at Heavens' little choice of his offspring._

 _Archer's eyebrow twitched as he held himself back not to throttle Kiritsugu._

 _Suddenly, he smirked._

" _Whatever you say…. Old man."_

 _Kiritsugu stilled. That oversized, bleached, dandified, no good_ punk _…What did he_ say?

" _Say that_ again." _His voice was deathly quiet as he glared at his errant protégé._

 _Archer smirked as he leisurely cleaned his left ear with his pinky._

" _Oh. They say the first sign of age is your hearing going. My condolences. You are an official old man, Old Man."_

 _Kiritsugu saw red._

" _I AM EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I AM_ **NOT** _OLD!"_

 _Archer's face brightened with mock-delight at Kiritsugu's outburst._

" _Sweet! I am twenty-one and of course, because I am older…" He paused for dramatic revelation._

" _I can forbid you to smoke. After all, you are just a minor."_

 _With that said, he quickly snatched the pack of cigarettes from Kiritsugu, smiling all the while._

 _Kiritsugu was now fit to shot him with Contender._

" _I am of age in Japanese law." He reminded Archer, seething, his nerves frazzled and fingers twitching for either cigarettes of trigger. Either one would do._

 _Archer patted Kiritsugu's hair patronizingly._

" _Oh, but it isn't in Italy, and if I remember right…" He hummed mock-thoughtfully "You will stop being actual minor in November, the eleventh, to be exact." He grinned a shark grin at the fuming assassin._

" _How dare you deceive poor little Harry with your stories of you being an adult, really. Shame, shame." He tutted, letting his hand be swatted away by increasingly pissed of Kiritsugu._

 _Archer tilted his head, enjoying needling his teenage 'father'._

" _You know, you are kind of cute like that. A jailbait if I ever saw one."_

 _Kiritsugu's mind became blank at the 'J' word._

 _Jailbait. Jailbait._ Jail- **Bait**.

 _He breathed in and out. And then, he remembered. A slow smile stretched his lips, causing Archer to pause._

" _You haven't been even born yet, so what that makes you?_ Future _jailbait?_

 _Kiritsugu was all teeth as he came close to the taken aback Archer, until they were nose-to-nose, black glaring into silver as their breath intermingled together. And then, he paused._

" _No, I take that back."_

 _Archer tensed._

 _Kiritsugu willingly taking his words back? The world gotta be ending somewhere._

 _Kiritsugu's smile was now positively menacing, and Archer unconsciously shrunk back on the couch he was sitting on._

" _You. Are. Oldest. Virgin. Jailbait._ _ **Ever."**_


	37. Chapter 37

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own these characters, nor do I own lyrics. I am just one very tired writer who is trying to catch the deadline. Whoops, my secret is out. Gotta run.

 ** _Shout Out:_** No, _' dancer'_ is not a typo. It's - in my opinion - a word play. I hear both _'dancer'_ and _'denser'_ the same, even if they are written differently. As an amusing tidbit – Flowers, who is the author of lyrics, was said to take inspiration from the quote of Hunter S. Thompson who had stated that _'America was raising a generation of dancers.'_ The context is cultural, and it can be explained in several different ways, so if anyone is interested in that, it can be found via internet and its threads.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, and yeah. Archer is lovably pitiful and Vindice has an existential crisis.

* * *

 _Are we human or are we dancer?_

 _My sign is vital, my hands are cold_

 _And I'm on my knees_

 _Looking for the answer_

 _Are we human or are we dancer?_

 _Are we human or are we dancer?_

 _Are we human or are we dancer?_

 _('Human', by The Killers)_

* * *

In a dark, austere fortress, within a room that was just as bare of any ornaments as its' outside bearings, there was a small, mummified form sitting behind their deck, clad in a black cloak which melded within the shadows pervading the room, the white of bandages a stark contrast of the dreary surroundings. On its head, there sat modest black top hat, similar to the ones worn by magicians. It's hands,the right clutching the eagle quill, were similarly bandaged, making it a wonder just how could such a tiny - dare an observer say - _baby_ hand scribble over the gathered papers with such dexterous efficiency, as if its owner had been an old man, extremely knowledgeable in the art of penmanship.

The small form, which was previously concluded to be that of a baby's, primly sat in its modified chair, and if it weren't for its bearing, one would say that the dark, ornate desk on which the mound of papers laid almost threateningly, considering their sheer bulk, was almost overwhelmingly imposing. Instead, it seemed opposite - the baby in question manned the paper monster with an almost enviable ease… or would have, if the mound of papers in question hadn't fought back just as ferociously as it's opponent.

The baby form paused as it felt someone's eyes on it.

"Jaeger. Stop staring at me." The voice came through the bandages, muffled as it was, containing the traces of stern reprimand and half-exhausted exasperation, as if its owner had already known his request wouldn't be granted.

(Not that it had been before, at least not in that matter. Jaeger was always _such_ a worrywart - )

The darkness shifted, revealing tall, almost lanky man in similar attire to the baby's. The only difference lied in the wide, fluffy white, fur collar that spanned over his shoulders. As the now called Jaeger tilted his head, his single exposed eye flashed gold in repressed amusement at the currently very cranky object of his observation.

"No can do, Master Bermuda." The hoarse, yet still deep voice rumbled out from his chest, where laid an ornamental silver chest chain glinting in feeble light as if mocking the gloomy austere with its brightness. The man's hair was swirling down from the top of his head in loose black curls, akin to the tails of snakes in motion.

Maybe in some other time, other day and when he was at his prime, such a man would have been considered a dandy or at least honestly handsome. But right here and now, those things didn't matter. Hadn't mattered for a very long time. Jaeger was Bermuda's right hand and Guardian - not that Bermuda needed one, but Jaeger had been stubborn on the issue ever since that day -

Jaeger shuddered to think about it. He had come so close to losing his Master - ever with Bermuda's… unusual circumstances, it had been by sheer dumb luck they had survived.

Vindice were said to be impartial with a very good reason. Their unique set of abilities made them extremely hard to kill - if even, and there were very, very few who could do the deed with a margin of success. Because of their abilities and longevity, Vindice were ideal law enforcers as it were, because they were - if different accounts of their deeds to be believed - nigh immortal.

Vindice had long lives and even longer memories. Famiglias may have forgotten their predecessors' deeds or aim to sweep them under rug of time and passing… but until Vindice was there, there was remembrance and justice.

Vindice had been robbed of all worldly possessions and virtues, doomed to a thankless existence because of an unfair set of circumstances they cursed out day in and day out. They couldn't change anything, couldn't get anything, live skeletons burning for justice and revenge.

If Bermuda's face had been bare of its numerous bandages, the baby's eyebrow would surely be twitching in irritation.

"Jaeger."

His tall companion hummed. "Yes, master?"

The baby grit his teeth. "Have I told you that you are being very obstinate today?"

A raw excuse escaped the parched, lifeless lips. "Not yet, today, Master."

Bermuda was sorely tempted to use his stamp as a makeshift tool to express his annoyance with via chuck it at Jaeger's head, when a warp portal whooshed in life at Jaeger's right side, allowing three very disheveled forms to tumble out of it, and stopping baby boss in the middle of his reaching for the afore mentioned stamp.

….

Both Jaeger and Bermuda stared at the shivering, sobbing wrecks on the cold concrete in front of them.

"… What on Earth…?" Bermuda finally spoke out, causing the said wrecks to flinch even more. "Weren't you three the ones who were assigned to bring back Harry James Potter and his cohorts – "

"S-Sorry! We are very sorry, but it couldn't be done!" The smallest one squeaked out.

"Punish us any way you like, Bermuda-sama!" The tallest one finally managed to get out of the ball of misery the three of them had been tangled into, and immediately kowtowed to the surprised Bermuda, his voice shaking so much that it was more of a warble than recognizable sentence. The offender yelped as Jaeger's fist descended on his head for his unforgivable misconduct.

"What are you three fools _doing?!"_ Jaeger practically seethed at crowd, but much to his surprise, it didn't have the same amount of effect it usually did. "You are in front of Master, and for all that's holy. _Act. Like. It!"_

The hapless bunch of three immediately tried to straighten himself, and Jaeger looked over them with critical eye.

No broken bones. No visible damage. Their cloaks and bandages were more or less pristine, if one could exempt their tumble scant moments before. "So. Why didn't you bring the accused in?" He growled at them.

"W-We can't! We literally can't! Or couldn't!" The third one chattered anxiously, snapping their jaw shut when Jaeger aimed at them an especially livid glare.

The one that promised unspeakable horrors to be done to them if they acted foolish again.

"Say it in three words or less." Jaeger demanded, fed up with their uncharacteristic idiocy. Not many people knew, but Vindice could be fools like ordinary people. Jaeger had trained out - or at least tried to train that quality out of them, but even with such long time under his careful guidance, something just had to happen to make them into blubbering idiots All. Over. Again.

The middle one - coincidentally the smallest one cringed, as if even saying the words physically and mentally hurt them.

 _"_ _Il Guardiano."_

Jaeger stilled.

Bermuda's eagle quill broke in his grip.

"How certain are you of it?"

 _'Il Guardiano'_ was a code word for nature calamity in human shape. It existed ever since the dawn of time, leaving behind mountains of corpses, guilty and innocent alike, and nothing Vindice ever did could stop it.

"W-White hair. Silver eyes." The middle-sized one piped out, trembling like leaf in hurricane. "R-Red and there was s-steel and iron – "

 ** _Steel and iron._**

Bermuda's eyes behind the bandages closed as sense of helplessness pervaded his very bones with chill that couldn't be availed by any kind of artificial warmth.

Jaeger, on the other hand, was still, his shoulders stiff as a board as his mind replayed _The Distaster_ over and over again.

 _The Guardian_ \- an ironic name for one who had been causing such bloodshed through the hundreds of years, even before the existence of Vindice.

Vidice's long memories had been a blessing when it came to dealing with Mafia, but they proved to be the curse of the worst sort when the first of them had the greatest misfortune of encountering _this man_ and going against him.

Vindice tried to be impartial, or as much as they could afford themselves to be. Innocents were to be exempt from Mafia, as long as they stayed on the right side of things.

When Guardian had appeared for the first time, Vindice had tried to interfere to save those innocent lives.

And for the first time in their almost-invincible existence, they felt feelings they had thought to have left behind with their human-looking forms.

Fear. Terror. Despair. Helplessness. Impotent fury, because it took nearly all of them to try and stop the monster in human guise – along with Bermuda almost losing his life – but all their efforts had been in vain.

What burned the most, was the news and people talking about some natural disaster or another, but Vindice knew damn well just who the hell caused the destruction of an almost apocalyptic scale.

Despicably unstoppable. They had tried to stop _him_ with Night Flames - their own curse and one feared through all of Mafia – only for them to be swept away in the wave of cursed fire and strange weapons.

"A-and –" The smallest one swallowed saliva as it tried to reign in its' body's instinctive reaction to flee as it remembered one more horrifying fact.

"And?" Jaeger's voice was dull.

"And he has a **_Master."_**

Both Jaeger and Bermuda jerked up, Jaeger's mouth soundlessly moving through the foul curse at their shitty luck –

"And who is his Master?" Bermuda was calm. Almost eerily so.

The tall form in front of him flinched back, as if expecting to be struck for its answer.

"Harry James Potter."

Jaeger stopped in the mid-curse. Really, there was no strong enough curse or expletive to express their _utterly shitty_ luck.

"Jaeger." Bermuda was still, but all of them could see just how still the tiny baby was.

"Yes." Jaeger managed to choke out.

"Operation _Armaggedon_ is a go." The three until now hapless Vindice stilled. The super-secret, most extreme security protocol of Vindice was finally put in action.

Jaeger couldn't help but to bow to Bermuda.

"As you will."

* * *

"I am a Counter Guardian."

Kiritsugu stared at Archer flatly.

Archer was clad all in black, like some kind of a fashionable villain - heavens knew the man couldn't go out of the house without one or another of those pesky fashion designers to beg him to be their model. This time, he had on black, leg-hugging jeans and black shirt with two uppermost buttons left off to show off the hollow of the man's throat and a slender chain, made of mithril lying upon the tanned skin. Feet encased in designer shoes, also black.

( _Harry's gift,_ Kiritsugu remembered sourly.)

Kiritsugu eyed the man up and down again, irked by the smug smirk on his face and feeling vastly underdressed for some reason.

Archer was the type that was effortlessly elegant in any clothes he donned… and that pissed Kiritsugu off for some reason.

"Nope. Not seeing it." Kiritsugu retort was flat and Archer's eyebrows rose in mocking askance.

"You are a dandy. I bet you can't hit even the wide side of the barn, never mind being a Counter Guardian." Kiritsugu shook his head mock-mournfully. "What a useless son I am cursed to bear." He raised his arms as if in despair at Heavens' little choice of his offspring.

Archer's eyebrow twitched as he held himself back not to throttle Kiritsugu.

Suddenly, he smirked.

"Whatever you say…. _Old man."_

Kiritsugu stilled. That oversized, bleached, dandified, no good _punk_ …What did he _say?_

"Say that _again."_ His voice was deathly quiet as he glared at his errant protégé.

Archer smirked as he leisurely cleaned his left ear with his pinky.

"Oh. They say the first sign of age is your hearing going. My condolences. You are an official old man, Old Man."

Kiritsugu saw red.

"I AM _EIGHTEEN_ YEARS OLD, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I AM _NOT_ OLD!"

Archer's face brightened with mock-delight at Kiritsugu's outburst.

"Sweet! I am twenty-one and of course, because I am older…" He paused for dramatic revelation.

"I can forbid you to smoke. After all, you are just a _minor."_

With that said, he quickly snatched the pack of cigarettes from Kiritsugu, smiling all the while.

Kiritsugu was now fit to shot him with Contender.

"I am of age in Japanese law." He reminded Archer, seething, his nerves frazzled and fingers twitching for either cigarettes of trigger. Either one would do.

Archer patted Kiritsugu's hair patronizingly.

"Oh, but it isn't in Italy, and if I remember right…" He hummed mock-thoughtfully "You will stop being actual minor in November, the eleventh, to be exact." He grinned a shark grin at the fuming assassin.

"How _dare_ you deceive poor little Harry with your stories of you being an adult, really. Shame, shame." He tutted, letting his hand be swatted away by increasingly pissed of Kiritsugu.

Archer tilted his head, enjoying needling his teenage 'father'.

"You know, you are kind of cute like that. A jailbait if I ever saw one."

Kiritsugu's mind became blank at the 'J' word.

 _Jailbait. Jailbait. Jail-Bait._

He breathed in and out. And then, he remembered. A slow smile stretched his lips, causing Archer to pause.

"You haven't been even born yet, so what that makes you? _Future_ jailbait?

Kiritsugu was all teeth as he came close to the taken aback Archer, until they were nose-to-nose, black glaring into silver as their breath intermingled together. And then, he paused.

"No, I take that back."

Archer tensed.

Kiritsugu willingly taking his words back? The world gotta be ending somewhere.

Kiritsugu's smile was now positively menacing, and Archer unconsciously shrunk back on the couch he was sitting on.

 _"You. Are. Oldest. Virgin. Jailbait._ _ **Ever."**_

Archer's eyes got impossibly round as he spluttered in shocked amusement at Kiritsugu's daring. Really, his… _mentor…_ was just too much.

"At least I am the kind of jailbait who got to have a threesome," He snarked back, grinning at Kiritsugu's poleaxed face at his revelation. _"You,_ on the other hand…" He smirked smugly.

"Are about as fresh as not-driven snow. Bet you hadn't even kissed yet." The smug smirk stretched into a shark grin at Kiritsugu's speechlessness.

"I _so_ did." Kiritsugu managed to get out, but much to Archer's amusement, the tips of his ears were red. And the rest of his face, too, even if it was really faint shade of pink. If Archer hadn't had sharp eyes, he would have missed it.

Archer quirked his eyebrow. "And I call bullshit. You can't even - actually, right now you are blushing like little kissing virgin you are." He playfully pursed his lips. _"Mwah."_

Kiritsugu's dark eyes flashed. And before Archer knew what was happening, the front of his T-shirt was being grabbed into iron hold as he was yanked forward, only to feel chapped, cigarette smoke-tinted lips on his own.

Silver eyes bulged out with belated horror, but just as soon as it happened, he was also harshly pushed back.

" _Well._ I proved that I am _no_ kissing virgin, you are my witness." Kiritsugu breathed at him, cheeks flushed (and Kiritsugu looked horrifyingly cute and young at this moment), dark eyes flashing with defiance as he roghly wiped his lips with the forearm.

He smirked at shell-shocked Archer as he stepped away from him, nonchalantly heading to the door. When reaching the door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at the dumbfounded Counter Guardian.

 _(Ha. As_ _ **if**_ _.)_

"Shame you can't do the same with your so-called threesome. Until you do, however… you will be the oldest jailbait ever. Or, in your case, forever and a day." Throwing him one last smug smirk, Kiritsugu swaggered out of the room, leaving dumbfounded Archer sitting on the couch, still reliving the last minute of him receiving Kiritsugu's _'virgin'_ kiss.

"My _eyes._ My **_lips._** My life shall never be the same." Archer was traumatized as he mumbled to himself, his eyes vacant with shock.

He had been kissed by his own _father_ because of pissy contest that had gotten - by Archer's own fault - out of hand.

Did that mean he kind of de-virginized Kiritsugu somehow…?

A chill of terror skittered down his spine as he thought of the possibility of … Kiritsugu wasn't attracted to him, was he?

Archer's head was spinning with the thoughts twisting themselves into an unsolvable pretzel with ever-increasing speed.

But… Kiritsugu _kissed_ him. _Him._ Archer.

 _By the Throne of Heroes…_ Archer wanted to whimper. And not manly whimper, either. This was a disaster. This was end of the world and -

And Kiritsugu was a stick in the mud relationships-wise. Even with Irisviel –

 _'_ _Don't. Even. Go. There._ ' He firmly told his mind as he grabbed the nearby pillow to bury his completely red face into, feeling the heat radiate from his ears.

"Archer?" Harry's voice reached him. "Do you want to cook spicy fried noodles tonight? I will prepare cucumber sala – "

Harry abruptly cut himself off when he saw Archer almost curling into the pillow, the usually cocky and composed man a complete wreck.

"Archer?" Harry approached him, a concerned frown on his face. "Are you okay?" He placed his hand on Archer's right shoulder.

Archer slowly raised his head, only so much his eyes looked at Harry, the lower part of his face obscured by the pillow still.

"Love me?" He pitifully squeaked out.

Harry was half-amused, half concerned. "No kitchen tonight?"

Archer vehemently shook his head. Right now he was 100% sure he would fail at any and all dishes – hell, he could've burned water with the way how his life was going.

His F rank luck was biting him on the ass…

… or better, had kissed him on the lips and…

"My life is _ruined_." He told Harry, his voice gravely serious. "I need cuddles. And lots of them."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Will call Xanxus. And Kiritsugu."

Archer's face contorted into a mask of utter horror.

Xanxus. _No_.

Kiritsugu. _Hells to no._ _ **Ever.**_

Archer was a humble man, but his pride had been already tattered enough for today. Xanxus was like a shark - if he knew Archer's weakness, it would be only matter of time to exploit it, Besides, that porcupine-like kitty brat only willingly cuddled with Iri and Harry and something would have to be seriously _wrong_ with Archer's manly self-esteem if he subjected himself to _Xanxus'_ mercies of all people.

Kiritsugu… No. Just… NO.

"Iri, then?" Archer blinked at Harry's question, not aware that he declined Kiritsugu's _'company'_ aloud.

He shook his head violently.

"No. Just you…. So, love me?" He gave his best version of puppy eyes at Harry.

Harry was his Master, his savior, his sole light in this mess…The tanned silver-eyed man sighed with relief as Harry tentatively hugged him around his shoulders, his own black-clad arms snaking around Harry's waist and tugging him to Archer, both moving until Archer was half-lying on the couch, with Harry using him as some kind of a makeshift body pillow.

"Harry?" He inquired softly.

"Mm?" Harry hummed back.

"You will love me even if I am a jailbait, right?"

Harry blinked at him, amused. "Can't see how you could be one." He hummed back again, humoring his Servant.

Archer let out a silent breath of relief. _Well._ At least one person was on his side. He felt Harry snuggle back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Archer felt his face slowly cool off, but a different kind of warmth filled his chest, as he half-closed his eyes in contentment.

Ahh… This was _bliss._

But….There was a niggling thought at the back of Archer's mind.

Archer stilled when he remembered dream sharing.

 _Oh._ ** _Fuck._**

* * *

 ** _Scribble_**

 _His mouth salivated._

 _The bliss was almost too much to bear._

 _It had been too long - too long since he had felt so light and free, so without agony rending his nerves apart._

 _The bracelet helped, of course - but in comparison with its source, it was as if it was a tiny white dwarf of a star in the face of a sun in its entire glorious splendor._

 _He fought - so very_ hard _\- not to collapse on the spot - and only his iron will was holding him upright as he gave off Aoi to that Tohsaka cretin._

 _(Tohsaka wouldn't be worthy of her._ Ever. _Not even if he were the greatest magus born, Aoi was too good, too delicate for the likes of him.)_

 _All his sense were concentrated on the right side, where that bespectacled green-eyed teen was standing, clad in simple dark grey suit with deep emerald shirt that was not even close to the color of his eyes._

 _(Kariya should have known… He checked.)_


	38. Chapter 38

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own them. I am just messing with them for your entertainment, my convenience and their frustration.

 ** _Shout Out:_** So, here we go. Temporarily abandoning poking at the cute fluff of _'gar'_ known as Archer. Shame, I know. But let's not traumatize him further because we still need him for more tortu - ahem, _interesting_ experiences.

 ** _Warnings:_** ** _AU_** on multiple scales, a certain someone is getting cozy with Harry, and there's an unexpected visitor. Not beta-ed, either.

* * *

 _Did you lose what won't return?  
Did you love but never learn?  
The fire's out but still it burns  
And no one cares,there's no one there_

 _Did you find it hard to breathe?  
Did you cry so much that you could barely see?  
You're in the darkness all alone  
And no one cares, there's no one there_

 _But did you see the flares in the sky?  
Were you blinded by the light?  
Did you feel the smoke in your eyes?  
Did you, did you?  
Did you see the sparks filled with hope?  
You are not alone  
'Cause someone's out there, _

_Sending out flares_

 _("Flares" by The Script)_

* * *

Being a Magus was to walk hand in hand with death.

The primary tenet of Magi everywhere.

The secondary one, wasn't written anywhere, but it was a no-brainer to most of them.

If one wanted to be powerful, one had to be prepared to suffer for it.

Suffering. What an unsightly word.

Yet an apt description of what one Kariya Matou felt for a long time.

Being born into a family full of Magi, was already bad, because it guaranteed the individual born into such a society was sooner or later subjected to the walk with death, regardless of their wishes.

They didn't have any choice, really. Indoctrination began almost as early as when they began to comprehend the world. It didn't help that their society was very small and secular - of course, they still accepted at least some goods from the mundane world, but most of time, they delved into strange mysteries involving death, life, Alaya and the subjects in between.

What was important, was not family as such, but breeding and power. And most of time, the ones paying an exorbitant price for ambitions of their forefathers were their descendants, willing or not.

Kariya Matou was one such sorry bastard, who had the luck - or worse, misfortune, of being born into a prominent Magi family with good circuits, while his family was on decline and with almost no one to inherit their mysteries. Personally, Kariya could care less if the family survived or not - they could go burn in the deepest pits of hell for all he cared - he wanted to be a photographer and travel the world - but life had bitch-slapped him into the unenviable position of being the only one acceptable enough to inherit the mantle of Matou family.

He still had nightmares of being pushed into the pit, his brother laughing above him as he stared at Kariya's begging form being devoured by those Crest Worms, his blue eyes wild with glee and jealousy shining out of them in a crazed gaze.

Kariya couldn't see what his brother was jealous over. He had the looks, girls loved his faux-gentle manners and he had been goddamned lucky enough to escape the hell Kariya had found himself in when it had been irrevocably proved that his brother didn't have good enough circuits to enable him to inherit Zouken's mysteries.

He felt worms move in his body, munching on his flesh and gnawing at his tendons. He had cursed his ability to provide them with mana numerous times. He had even been desperate enough to try and find something to destroy it - anything would be better than suffering through being gnawed on day and night in and out, pain an invisible shroud that wound through his body, crippling his movement and abilities, yet giving him back the mana that was later on used to nurture the little bastards in a vicious cycle.

If it hadn't been for her...Dull brown eyes blinked.

He would've chosen the coward's way out, fleeing from Matou manor as soon as he finished high school, if not sooner. He had already stashed the money for his travel and had ticket and transport prepared on the go… but that very evening, he let the chance to escape pass him and never return.

Because of _her._

Aoi Zenjou. One single girl that was his closest friend, unrequited love and the cause of his misery in person.

He mouthed out a belated curse when the worms felt his excitement and deigned to be a little bit more excited in their quest to devour him, the little bastards. As if they were gleeful to receive his feelings of misery and gladly expounded on them.

Groaning, Kariya moved his forearm to shield his eyes from the evil ball of light called sun.

The world was truly against him. _Somehow._ It really felt like it, considering that everything from that fateful evening was a series of unfortunate events that had been centered on his person.

He didn't enjoy silk sheets on his skin or appreciate luxurious surroundings of his room. Even the finest food tasted like ashes and dust on his tongue.

That idiotic Tokiomi bastard surely had some strange ideas about 'celebrating' his auspicious union with his beloved. And Kariya, being a soft-hearted fool he was, succumbed to Aoi's tearful eyes and agreed to accompanying her to her dearest fiancé, along with being her best man - maid - _whatever_ \- to give her away in the name of her family.

He was respected Lord _Matou._ The title may have not had the same weight like it had in the old days, but it was enough that any Magus family would agree that he was indeed good choice of chaperone/guard/witness for Aoi Zenjou in her endeavor to be married to that foppy little bastard of a Tokiomi.

Kariya closed his eyes. _'What is, is.'_ He tried to tell himself for the millionth time, or at least it seemed like it. It had been too late, what with his being chosen to bear the weight of Matou family crest: he hesitated in telling her his feelings, knowing the horrible fate the women of the family had to go through to be a true Matou. Even if he loved her - truly, deeply - he wouldn't have wished that kind of torture upon her.

His love, his hesitation, his cowardice - all three factors caused him to stay his hand and heart, letting her go on and meet that Tohsaka bastard –

And from then on, it had been a whirlwind romance - or as much of a romance it could be, considering their marriage was based on benefits to Tohsaka line first before feelings came into the picture.

(Privately, Kariya thought Aoi one mad, mad woman to just agree to go along with Tohsaka's scheme. Even if Zenjou line was impoverished and not worth much in the Magi world, surely there had to be some kind of solution that wouldn't have involved her being with that unpalatable fool…?)

A sharp pain blazed through his spine, causing the young man on the bed to hiss out a curse.

Empty dark brown eyes glared at the ceiling, willing it to disintegrate - only the ceiling stayed right where it was, still mockingly white as if mutely taunting Kariya about his misery.

* * *

Harry was not really happy camper.

It seemed he was living with a bunch of brats instead his friends. The only one who was reasonably sane, was Irisviel (who had cheered both of the impromptu-drawn teams on), because Xanxus somehow managed to drag his both Kiritsugu and Shoichiro into some kind of prank war against Archer, leaving Harry with Kirei who didn't help the matters what with egging both sides on and…

Wait. Did Xanxus just command Tribble to _trip_ Archer?

Harry's headache compounded.

That was _bullshit._ Why was that lot of his so antagonistic toward Archer, really? Actually - it wasn't only him. Why were all three of his friends such antagonistic little shits? Harry gently rubbed his temple, green eyes glaring into distance.

Ever since they were little, all three of them - meaning Kirei, Kiritsugu and Soichiro were at each other's throat more or less. Kirei and Kiritsugu had been at it so often that Harry considered their spats like some kind of a background noise at all times of the day, if he didn't deign to step in and mediate.

And then, when Soichiro came. At both instances - with their first meeting when Soichiro had made that yucky medicine, and the reunion, both Kirei and Kiritsugu had been antagonistic to Soichiro from the get go.

When Xanxus came, the situation became even weirder, Soichiro joining in the bunch against Xanxus – iri was, for some reason, an exception all three assassins reluctantly accepted within their folds, and Tribble-Jubstacheit was given a cursory glance and some inquiries before being dismissed -

(Harry hadn't been witness to all three assassins crowding the poor cloak and threatening it with it's imminent, fiery, agony-full demise if anything ever happened to Harry,)

(Harry remained wholly ignorant of _that_ particular fiasco…. what with both the cloak and the assassin trio having behaving like nothing was wrong when Harry had passed the living room that one time.)

(The assassins threatened the animated piece of fabric. Very graphically and with great zeal. There may have been a hefty amount of bloodlust involved in process, and the said piece of fabric may or may not procured fangs in retaliation. No purring included but … Xanxus would swear the stupid thing had growled at them. _Growled!)_

-and then, there was Archer. Cue the whole kerfuffle shebang _again._

Harry exhaled. Was that some kind of a secret acceptance ritual before any newcomer was allowed near him or something?

Or maybe his friends and Harry's kitty ward were just a bunch of bastards who enjoyed causing chaos for any and all reasons imaginable.

Glaring at the chaos that was happening in the living room o one last time, Harry rose to go in his room, only for Kirei to catch him by his hand.

"Harry? Where are you going?" Dull brown eyes stared into him questioningly.

"Away from chaos." Harry deadpanned. "I've filled my quota for today." Kirei's eyebrows arched, as if priest was entertained with Harry's suffering.

"They will be sad." Kirei volleyed back. Harry eyed him with disbelief. Sad? Why ever for?

(He deliberately chose to forget Kiritsugu's puppy eyes. Honestly, how could a die-hard, cold-blooded assassin still use _those?_ It was completely unfair!)

"Then tell them to finish their monkeying a little bit sooner, would you?" He snarked back. "And besides… you _do_ remember you have to officiate a wedding today, don't you?"

Judging by Kirei's surprise-widened eyes, his sadistic friend had totally forgotten about that little tidbit."

Snorting slightly, while shaking his head with exasperated amusement, Harry bonked Kirei on the head.

"Well. As one of the main stars of this drama, shouldn't you do your best to prepare yourself? This is your precious mentor, no?" He drawled out, smirking at the still dumbfounded Kirei mischievously before he exited the room, completely unaware that the brawl had subsided when he talked to Kirei.

The door silently closed behind him, leaving the brawlers and Kirei once again alone.

(And did that _suck_.)

Kirei was staring at it. "He's _so_ not cute." He murmured to himself, half in shock and half in bemusement that Harry finally decided to show some of his claws.

Archer coughed, while his three enemies - along with one sentient Cloak - nodded seriously, completely agreeing with Kirei's assessment.

"And whose fucking fault is _that!?"_

Iri just pouted, snuggling Alucard to her chest gently, the bloodthirsty owl with delusions of being vampire cuddling to her in sympathy, completely understanding her woes. Why did they have to end the brawl, it was just getting interesting!

* * *

Despite his crabby attitude at beginning, Harry was actually excited to be invited to a wedding, no matter how small it was.

Luckily the soon-to-be-wedded pair didn't want an overly complicated version of exchanging vows, so Harry had been safe in that regard.

The chapel chosen for it was small, giving the entire thing an air of privacy. It was done in dull gray stone with few, statues inside. It's only saving grace were mosaic windows, letting in a colorful light dyed by stained glass.

The ends of few pews that had been squeezed in the small space were decorated with baby breath and orange blossoms, making the atmosphere a little less austere and a little bit more soft and fragile.

"Do you, Tokiomi Tohsaka, take Zenjou Aou as your wife, to take care of in sickness and health, in good time and bad times, in wealth and poverty, to protect, respect and love?"

Kirei was clad in snow white alb with sky blue chasuble and similarly colored stole that was darker than chasuble just for a shade, but edged in gold, its ends embroidered with white crosses. His slightly longish, messy hair should have made him appear unkempt, but instead, he looked like one of young apostles or… something. Tall. Imposing. Radiating some kind of power that made Harry wonder how he ever became friend with that kind of person.

It hadn't hit Harry that Kirei truly was a priest - not until now, not until he had seen Kirei in the garb only those devoted to God were allowed to wear.

But it was true. Kirei was in front of him, looking line of God's warriors - Harry reckoned that if Kirei had gotten wings in that moment, he wouldn't be half as surprised.

His name - Kirei - denoted _'beautiful'._ And right now, at least to Harry, Kirei was true embodiment of it.

Green eyes slid to the pair his friend was currently binding in holy matrimony. A tall bearded man with intense dark blue eyes, clad in flamboyant red suit with a thin blue cravat looped in an elegant ribbon falling in front of his chest his brown hair falling messily on his forehead as he gazed at his soon to be wife.

"I do." His voice was deep and warm, resonating through the small chapel with resolution, his eyes filled with deep affection as he squeezed his beloved's hands.

"Do you, Aoi Zenjou, take Tohsaka Tokiomi as your husband, to take care of in sickness and health, in good time and bad times, in wealth and poverty, to protect, respect and love?"

"I do." The seemingly fragile woman echoed the man's answer, smiling at his beaming face, shyly as her cheeks were suffused with pink blush. She was clad in a simple cream-colored gown that wouldn't be amiss in Ancient Greece, with tiny braided chains uplifting part of the sheer sleeves to drape artfully down off her shouters. Her hair dark hair was one in a simple half-braided bun, decorated with small bunch of baby breath and orange blossoms at her right temple and some in her braid. The slim waist was accentuated by a thin band of peach colored silk decorated with small pearls, her doe eyes glowing with happiness and affection. Her attire may have been simple, but it enhanced her simple beauty perfectly.

"I do." Her voice was gentle, fragile breeze of a breath in comparison to her betrothed's fire. She blushed further, attempting to duck her head with embarrassment at her admission, but somehow gathered courage to defy her shyness as she stared at her beloved.

Harry could feel their affection for each other like almost physical thing. It was - despite Kirei's misgivings - obviously a love match. And something in his heart constricted when he thought of his friends.

Had they been just as happy when they decided to take their own vows? And… would Harry, himself, ever had a chance to meet someone – to have someone who would look at him like that?

Maybe. Probably. If he would survive that shard…and even then, it was big if.

He couldn't help but think of his friends. They were overbearing, whiny lot that caused him trouble wherever he went. Honestly, it was worse than herding a mass of stray cats! They were already so possessive of him Harry wondered if they would approve any of his … _romantic_ entanglements _. If ever._

Mentally, Harry couldn't help but shudder.

Look at _Xanxus._ The brat was just a stray, who was by chance and sheer dumb luck promoted to Harry's kitty son. Nobody couldn't say Xanxus didn't take to his role with gusto, but Harry got a strange premonition his little kitty of a baby tiger would throw a fit to end all fits _if,_ not _when,_ but _**if**_ – Harry ever decided to take a chance on someone who would have to be fearless - or crazy - enough to brave the den of insanity that was Harry's makeshift family.

Luckily for them and Harry's sanity, Harry didn't intend to visit that particular instance any time soon.

He blinked as he felt gaze on his person. Turning his head slightly, he looked into dark brown gaze of Zenjou's witness and best friend.

Kariya Matou.

The man was standing still like a statue, clad in dark grey business suit with a lavender ascot tie around his neck, the single speck of color in the otherwise drab theme of his clothing, lightly leaning on the walking stick made of mahogany. It was kind of strange for such a young man - Harry thought him to be in early twenties still - to use such an implement, but instead of being silly, it added to his image of a lord of an important family.

His eyes were blank - the horrible blankness of someone who lost everything they hold dear, but when Harry looked at him, the older man didn't move his gaze away, staring at Harry as if he were some kind of an exotic butterfly.

* * *

His mouth salivated.

The bliss was almost too much to bear.

It had been too long - too long since he had felt so light and free, so without agony rending his nerves apart.

The bracelet helped, of course - but in comparison with its source, it was as if it was a tiny white dwarf of a star in the face of a sun in its entire glorious splendor.

He fought - so very _hard -_ not to collapse on the spot - and only his iron will was holding him upright as he gave off Aoi to that Tohsaka cretin.

(Tohsaka wouldn't be worthy of her. _Ever._ Not even if he were the greatest magus born, Aoi was too good, too _delicate_ for the likes of _him.)_

All his sense were concentrated on the right side, where that bespectacled green-eyed teen was standing, clad in simple dark grey suit with deep emerald shirt that was not even close to the color of his eyes.

(Kariya should have known… He _checked_.)

He didn't expect that when he saw this slip of a teen walking alongside Kirei.

In retrospect, it was silly to expect someone big and intimidating with Kirei ( - like Father Risei – his subconsciousnes whispered to him disobediently), but considering the young priest had been associating with Tohsaka Tokiomi, Kariya had expected him to invite ad least some notable person with a Magi lineage to witness Tokiomi's latest bout of craziness.

(Because, Christian _wedding_ , what the hell. Magi weren't even _religious,_ for Alaya's sake.)

His rage at the absurdity of the situation was only quelled by that strange bracelet - at first, Kariya was reluctant to wear it, fearful of it being addicting, and even worse, losing its powers (what kind of construct wouldn't have lost its powers after such a strenuous use, especially when there were no visible sources of energy - and Kariya had looked - ) - but the power was there to stay.

He didn't know why, how or what, but those damnable parasites were stalled away from consuming his body and energy by a great margin. Of course, he still had to suffer through the torture, but it hadn't been an outright agony like it used to be.

He used the bracelet sparingly, all too aware of that damned priest's words about Kariya being indebted to him, tried to stay away from it, even contemplated to throwing it somewhere in the sea, but in the end, he succumbed to its lure.

It was like lazing in the sun on a perfectly cloudless day, without any care in the world. The power - whatever it was - engulfed him into its embrace gently, willingly, enshrouding him within it's energies and leaving him breathless with wonder when he could move a little bit easier, his breath not an ominous rattle but a little bit better, even if he rasped at times.

And then, he discovered The Source.

In the unsuspecting form of the slender teen with the greenest - _emerald_ , his mind whispered to him greedily - eyes he had ever seen.

"Harry, this is Matou Kariya, Aoi's witness and de-facto protector. Matou, this is Harry, my friend." Kariya had nodded curtly at the youth, dismissing him at a glance as inconsequential in the grander scheme of things. The boy wasn't a Magus, and he was clad as ordinarily as he could without being insulting in process. A simple gray suit with emerald green shirt - but Harry's eyes were more intense color paired with a pair of black shoes.

Exchanging polite greetings, both of them reached for a handshake, and in that moment, one Kariya Matou was done for.

 _Thunderstruck._ That was how Kariya felt at grasping that slender, fragile, yet calloused hand in his smooth one. If he had thought bracelet was strong, then whatever this energy was, exploded within him like supernova or waves of tsunami hitting ashore regardless of defenses, plowing through them with ridiculous ease.

And the _parasites_ within him - for once, they stopped... _completely_.

If lessening of a constant agony was the greatest blessing imaginable since he had gotten that bracelet, what was then a complete absence of the pain that plagued him ever since he had been forced to bury his dreams in lieu of ascending to Matou throne?

Complete and utter _bliss._

He had been left completely light-headed, only retaining enough of presence of mind to make a semi-decent conversation with that Tohsaka fool and even then –

And now, when Tokiomi's pupil was conducting the wedding rites, his eyes were drawn to that unassuming, messy-haired, bespectacled boy who had the strangest power to quell the nightmares within Kariya's body.

 _Hmmmm._

Kariya practically bit his lips to force himself not to do something as utterly foolish as to purr or, Alaya forbid, _nuzzle_ the boy like a spoiled cat.

(Kirei was _ridiculously_ protective of the boy, and if he had even an _inkling_ of Kariya's insensate thoughts right then, the Matou Lord was sure this little chapel would be decorated with his guts, blood and other viscera regardless of Kirei's respect of mentor or the auspicious occasion going on right then.)

He may have lost Aoi because of him being a fool, but in losing her, he had discovered a truly incomparable gem.

Kariya wasn't greedy by nature.

… but Magi as a whole were greedy people.

Oh, hell, who was he trying to kid - even if he had tried to deny it, Kariya was also a Magus and one very greedy son of a bitch….

…and this time, he didn't intend to lose.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Darkness, thunder and rain._

 _Nothing special, all in accordance with all too hot weather and honestly speaking, most of people actually welcomed thunderstorm, even if temperatures have done an abrupt nosedive from their previously hellishly hot peak._

 _Kirei had read a book in the living room when he felt someone tripping the wards._

 _A small blip._

 _Frowning, he rose from his comfy spot on the couch before regretfully closed the book and headed to the door with great reluctance. Nobody should have known where they were, what with bounded fields and wards, but there was someone._

 _Not that they_ felt _like a threat - and even if they would have been threat, Kirei was confident enough in his abilities to deal with them accordingly._

 _They also weren't any of those Flame-sensitives, nor were they wand-wavers. That left only one possibility._

 _A Magus._

 _He opened the door, expecting either Tohsaka or Matou, but instead of that, his gaze slid down, down… down._

 _…_ _to a tiny person wetter than a drowned rat._

 _The boy - or girl - they had shoulder length hair - looked up at him, their green eyes huge. They were already trembling, and teeth chattering with cold. The hair surely was merciless, leaving their clothes more of waterlogged puddles of fabric dragging them down than clothes at all._

 _"_ _H-Hello? I am looking f-for H-Harry –_ ah - choo!" _The girl – Kirei was sure that was a girl - sneezed thinly._

 _Kirei quirked an eyebrow at the miserable wretch at his door. Seriously?_

 _"_ _And who might you be?" He inquired, already resigned to Harry's newest stray._

 _"_ _I - ah – I am Waver Velvet, Xanxus' babysitter." The slip of a person offered Kirei a sheepish, if painful smile on their trembling lips as the priest stared at her in disbelief. "P-Pleased to meet you?"_


	39. Chapter 39

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own this chapter, characters or song. Man… those disclaimers…. _/exhausted sigh/_

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Always amused, awed and touched to hear your thoughts on the chapter. I am bushed - pulled a long shift, so forgive grammar mistakes if found any. Still self-beta-ing that monster...

 _ **Warnings:**_ _AU_ on multiple scales, story getting ahead and here be Dangerous Bird - ahem, Worm.

* * *

 _I said there ain't no way but the hard way_

 _So get used to it_

 _There ain't no way but the hard way_

 _No way but the hard way_

 _No way but the hard way_

 _So get used to it_

 _The tide will turn_

(' _No Way But The Hard Way_ ' by _Airbourne_ )

* * *

That Matou person was a little _too_ attached to Harry for Kirei's tastes.

Kirei had to hold back a frown. It wouldn't do to behave like a spoiled little brat just because Matou, for some strange reason, became very interested in Harry.

Harry was an interesting person, Kirei had to give him that - it was just Harry thing, so to speak. Other people may have not noticed it as much - and Kirei thanked heavens for that - but on the other side, anything - or anyone - out of ordinary seemed to be drawn to his friend as if Harry were some kind of human-shaped magnet for it. Case in point, everything that had happened in England. And then those little misadventures in Italy. Not to mention the Einzbern mishap - Kirei didn't even want to think about that one.

But right now, Kirei sorely, deeply regretted giving the cockroa - ahem, that Matou fellow any chance to interact with Harry. He had of course known it would've been inevitable at this point - Tokiomi had expressed deep interest about Kirei's 'friend' especially when Kirei was such a stick of the mud that most of people he had came in contact with, could be termed acquaintances at best, and even then, the term could be used in the loosest way possible.

But who else would Kirei take along for the wedding, really? Kiritsugu? The chapel would be going up in flames, no ifs, ands or buts. Kuzuki? It would've been better to find a brick and stuff it down the satchel to take along. Xanxus and Iri were out of question. So really, the only viable choice, not that Kirei wanted it to be as such, was Harry.

But now, seeing those dark brown eyes burning with strange flames looking at Harry, those thin, unsmiling lips trying to curl into an awkward smile, and a bashful tilt of a head as the man was listening to whatever Harry was telling to him.

"He is an interesting person, hm?" Kirei had to blink when he finally comprehended those words were addressed to him.

On his left, there was Tohsaka, an amused smirk tilting the man's lips as he looked at the strange due some steps away chatting with each other. His eyes, however, were calculating, causing a ripple of chill down Kirei's spine.

Tohsaka may be a fool… but he was also a Magus. And Harry getting Tohsaka's attention didn't bode anything well.

Carefully, Kirei inhaled. "Of course." His reply was even, as if he didn't care about what was going on in Tohsaka's head.

"How come he's your friend? Do forgive me, but with you being a priest…" Tokiomi motioned with his flute, still half-full of champagne to Harry carelessly. Belatedly, Kirei regretted Aoi's absence, but she excused herself for a moment or two.

Kirei's eyes were blank, carefully devoid of any suspicion.

"We've got to know each other when we were children, before we've been parted because of… circumstances." Kirei was truthful, even if he omitted many of the facts. "We've met this year again and just clicked."

Tokiomi emitted a non-committal hum. "Just clicked, you say? Does he know about your… profession?" He tilted his head like curious cat, his eyes unusually sharp for the moment.

"Which one?" Kirei's volley hung between the two of them like Damocles' sword. After a pause, Tokiomi exhaled a breath, but he frowned at Kirei's strange wording.

"Either of them? _Both_ of them?"

Kirei was silent, making Tohsaka Magus tense with discomfort at his inaction.

"You know the consequences if you let the outsiders in." Tokiomi warned him seriously, giving him one last hard look before looking back at Kirei's mysterious friend.

"He knows me as a priest. Nothing more, nothing less." Kirei deigned to answer, his voice low and firm. "But on the other side, if you intend to harm him… then I will forget that you are my mentor and take you down."

Tokiomi paused in lifting his flute toward his mouth, surprised blue eyes sliding back to his pupil. After a moment of silence, he exhaled and sipped the bubbly liquid before speaking out again.

"Ah. He's that important to you, then?"

KIrei was silent.

And that was all the answer Tokiomi needed.

Letting out a sharp chuckle, he swished the flute carelessly.

" _Ah._ And Father Risei assured me you are block of a rock. _Bemoaned_ it, really" He breathed out, amused. "So he would be _delighted_ of the glad news that somewhere in you, there is a bloody heart beating, wouldn't he?"

Kirei fought not to tense at the casually spoken words.

" _Remember, Magi walk hand in hand with death."_ This was the first lesson Tohsaka Tokiomi imparted to him. Not that it mattered Kirei - as an Executor, he had already gotten used to death to the degree it could be termed abnormal if he were in any other profession.

Kirei had walked hand in hand with death… but he would never, ever accept it if it was the death of his best friend.

He knew that the death was a natural part of life, like seasons, but when thinking just how easily he could lose Harry, something within his chest clenched to the point of pain.

 _Like that one time when Harry had been kidnapped by Freccia, only… not._

And now, Tokiomi was warning - _threatening_ him, really - with taking Harry away from him. Those words may have sounded like something a fond mentor would praise, but Kirei knew Tokiomi.

Tokiomi and Risei were two men, cut from the same cloth.

And Risei… Kirei lowered his eyes so that no one could notice the freezing cold glare in them.

Risei would _pay._

"He had done me a favor." Kirei muttered. Nothing more, nothing less.

Tokiomi said nothing, but inclined his head in a soft nod, both men coming to a tacit understanding of a temporary ceasefire over the issue as Tokiomi grandly offered his arm to an approaching Aoi who giggled and cheerfully accepted it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was talking to Lord Matou - "Call me Kariya, please" - about photography. Not that Harry was in any way versed in this field, but it was pure dumb luck - and maybe the very pleasant scenery surrounding them - contributing to their theme of choice.

When Harry managed to disregard those strange eyes drilling into him, he found out that Kariya was a good conversationalist, even if at time strangely stilted when it came to shaping out his sentences, is if he weren't used to it.

The man was drawn in, as if exhausted from life. Harry was concerned at first, but the man quickly assured him that it was only because of his illness, and this was one of his better days.

If that was Kariya in good day - pale, slightly sunken in cheeks, and semi-visible eyebags, Harry didn't dare to think how would Kariya look like when hit by one of the bad days. The man looked terrible enough that if Madame Pomfrey would have seen him, she would have sent him to hospital bed in three seconds flat. Even stranger, Kariya didn't want to say what ailed him, as if his illness was shameful in a way.

He looked downtrodden enough that it rung all alarm bells in Harry's head. Something was wrong - very, very wrong. But it wasn't Harry's place to go digging into obviously still hurting wounds like it was any of his business.

"Hey. Do you want something to drink? You look a little bit unwell to me." He blurted out, and shit, he was one stupid nosybody again, wasn't he? He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment, but what was done was done.

Kariya blinked at him, surprised. "Oh, do I really?" He queried back, slightly frowning with discontent. "I - I am not. Not really. I am just under weather." He tried to wave it away and something on his right wrist glinted, catching Harry's eyes.

The glint was familiar.

Very, very familiar.

It ought to be, considering that on Kariya's wrist, there was a bracelet, similar to the ones Harry and his friends were wearing… and as far as Harry knew, this set of four was unique. More than that, in fact.

So just what were the chances of some outsider having an _exact_ duplicate on their wrist - and not only that, just what were the chances of Harry _meeting_ the same outsider and seeing the so-called duplicate on their wrist?

Harry's eyes narrowed as he wordlessly snatched Kariya's wrist out of the air, causing the man to choke out a gasp of surprise at his rude action.

"Where did you get _this?"_ Harry demanded as he stared at the fragile work, his heart beating a mile a minute when he finally connected the dots - that unsettling feeling within him, bordering on pins and needles, that something was _wrong_ but apparently not -

Wide soulless brown eyes looked into his own furious green ones, Kariya turning paler than a sheet as he shrunk into himself.

"Y-You can _see_ it?" He squeaked out, cringing even further as Harry's glare confirmed that _yes,_ he could definitely see that little tidbit of craftsmanship on his wrist.

"Of fucking _course_ I do." Harry fought hard not to explode with temper. And he had an inkling just who was the fool enough to give his own away as if it were worthless wristband made out of straw.

Kirei. Goddamn _Kirei._ The priest was shameless enough to do something like this. Harry would have throttled his friend.

But seeing Kariya cringe within himself like kicked dog, Harry's gut sank even deeper than Marianas trench.

"Kariya? Why did Kirei give you his bracelet?" He asked, carefully modulating his voice to be as neutral as it could be. The wrist in his hand - not, Kariya's entire being trembled, causing Harry to hurriedly lead him to the nearest chair and gently nudge the man to sit down and holy fuck, was the man hyperventilating?

"I - I'm so - sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm _sorry - "_ Kariya's babble was interrupted by scent of pine, laurel, and after storm enveloping his sensed as Harry drew him against his body, the man's' head resting in the middle of his chest, while he sharply patted Kariya's back with the other - not too much, but just enough to remind him to breathe.

" _Breathe_ , idiot." Harry rebuked Kariya and damn it, now he felt guilty for making Kariya panic like that. "I know you are not at fault, but this is a rare artefact" He grimaced as he felt Kariya tense again. Apparently he wasn't explaining correctly. _Goddammit._

He took a breath and tried again. Slowly, he removed his hand and place them on Kariya's shoulders, gentle as feathers.

"There are four of these. One for me, three for my friends. We 've managed to get oursleves in some deep shi - _troubles_ \- "Harry quickly corrected himself, flushing a bit " - and those are to monitor our health, along with whether or not one of us is in danger."

"You don't look like someone who would constantly court danger." Kariya's trembles calmed down some, but his speech was still uneven. Harry huffed.

"You don't know _half_ of it." He grumbled out, long-suffering annoyance bleeding into his voice, relaxing Kariya further. "Point is, I've been on pins and needles because I've felt someone being in _danger_ \- " He ground the last word out, unconsciously tightening his hold on Kariya's shoulders, causing the man to stiffen in return. " - and it's been driving me up the _wall._ Every time I checked, everyone was alright. _Every. Goddamn. Time."_ Harry seethed to himself.

"I ought to know that something was wrong right there and then, but I didn't think to check any of them for possessing those." His voice became dark with anger and self-blame, prompting Kariya to shakily reach for the hand on his left shoulder and placing his own on the top of it.

"You couldn't have known." The head of Matou's family winced. "And… mind releasing me?" No matter how much he enjoyed the hold - stranglehold, really, - the said hold was beginning to be more painful by the minute for some reason. Harry's eyes widened and he snatched his hands off Kariya shoulders as if they were on fire and he began to hurriedly apologize for his misdemeanor.

" _Shit_ , no. I - I mean, I didn't mean it - sorry. Forgot." Harry was sure he was red as a ripe cherry right now.

A slow, raspy chuckle stopped him in his tracks. Causing him to look at Matou with surprise.

"I ought to be the one to apologize, considering I've caused him to give the bracelet to me." Kariya's smile was a little bit more natural, with a smidgen of chagrined guilt hanging from edges of his lips.

Now it was Harry's turn to quirk his eyebrows as he awkwardly stepped back, blindly groping for a chair to sit down to hear the tale his best friend on the whole wide world apparently omitted telling him.

"I…" Kariya hesitated. He shouldn't have dragged this young man - teen, really, - deeper than he already was. If Harry's tale about those bracelets being some kind of life monitors was right - and Kariya didn't doubt it - then knowing his...circumstances would be undoubtedly an additional burden on the youth's shoulders.

And Kariya didn't want that.

Unconsciously gripping the bracelet, he clenched his jaw.

' _Well, it was good while it lasted, didn't it?'_ His inner voice, scarily similar to Zouken's mocked him.

But all good things had to end sometime.

It was the fact of life.

"I am sick." He decided to be blunt. "Terminally." An ironic smirk curled up on his lips when he thought of his 'terminal' illness. . More like curse, but well. This was his lot in life.

Harry's frown almost made him smile. This green-eyed teen had a little too bit of a honest face, his eyes reflecting everything. Surprisingly, Kariya didn't see any pity in those emerald orbs, prompting him to continue.

"For some reason…" Kariya halted. "The bracelet seemed to stave off the symptoms. Even when I was only near it, I could breathe easier. Move easier. You know, the works." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it hadn't been anything big when he had experienced it.

 _That bliss._

He would cheerfully murder if he would be allowed to experience it for just a little bit longer….that little bit of almost - painless heaven .

But now, his own conscience was prompting him to give up the said piece of heaven back to the original owner.

Kariya truly, sincerely wanted to curse his worthless life.

"And Kirei noticed it." Harry's eyes flashed to the priest, impressed. The small moment immediately dampened Kariya's spirits even more.

' _He outright blackmailed me, the prick!'_ Kariya wanted to rage, but the sad fact was, he let himself be coerced so very easily it was almost tragic.

Instead, he allowed himself a jerky nod. "I will, of course, return it back - " He began to rise his hand to get the bracelet off of his wrist, only to be halted by Harry's hand on his own.

"Don't." Harry paused, and his eyes flashed with small amount of guilt. "You need it, so it's not necessary. And it seems I owe both of you an apology."

He gave dazed Kariya a small, heartfelt smile, before he lifted his head and glared at the priest.

"But I will have some _words_ with this best friend of mine." He ended silkily, and Kariya shuddered - he didn't know whether in fear or anticipation of the oncoming fireworks.

There was a small bite to his innards, but Kariya relished the pain - just this once, the pain he usually resented seemed to be the greatest blessing ever.

* * *

 _"Kotomine Kirei."_ Kirei couldn't help but become rigid at hearing his name called out in that tone from Harry's lips.

Whenever Harry deigned to use their full names - case in point, Xanxus, but for some reason, Kirei felt a small ball of warmth in his gut every time when he heard that Potter-Kotomine surname being growled, snapped or screamed out of Harry's mouth -

\- it was not so fun to find himself on the wrong side of that disapproving glare.

Ah, little Matou bastard whined to Harry. He should have expected it, but.. Not so soon.

Dammit, his little plans to torture that glorified humanized worm were going down the drain in front of his very eyes, and Kirei was helpless to do anything.

Forcing himself to be calm in the face of apocalypse otherwise known as his very temperamental green-eyed friend, Kirei dipped a nod to him. "Yes, Harry?"

He fought the urge to check for any worms on Harry's person just out of principle - that Matou was soiled with them so much it wouldn't surprise Kirei if Kariya were half-worm himself.

It took all of his self-restraint not to storm over and snatch Harry out of Matou's hold when the prick dared to hyperventilate against his friend's body.

Kirei told himself it was because Matou was - even so shabby looking as he was - a danger to Harry.

But he didn't have such a strong reaction when either of their friends or that kitty brat were close to Harry.

It was just with… Matou. That was it. But the reaction was strong enough that when Harry finally got away from the slimy work, Kirei felt almost physical relief as a result.

He dared to look at Harry, but his green-eyed friend was a little too bit fixed for his tastes, making him even more wary than he already was.

"Why did you, in all of your _infinite_ wisdom, gave someone an artifact that you were _informed_ it ought to _stay_ on your person at any and all times?" Harry's voice was oh-so-casual that to any other observer, it would be heard like an unimportant query.

Kirei, however, knew different.

This was Mount Harry preparing to erupt and he could only pray to heavens he would be getting out of the oncoming confrontation without too much hits to his pride, abilities and overall trustworthiness.

(Kirei inwardly cringed when he thought of Harry's Disappointed Glare™. When Harry was still small, it was cute, like that of a drenched kittten's. Now, to Kirei's and Kiritsugu's horror, evolved. It could make them spit out any and all of their misdeeds, no room for waylaying their friend.)

He swallowed.

(For crying out _loud,_ he was an _Executor._ And he still folded like wet paper napkin.)

Well. Better to get this little confesion over and done with.

"He saw the bracelet. And I noticed it affected him."

Frank and to the point.

Kirei expected Harry to look at him with this disappointed gaze of his, but instead, he was met with surprisingly exasperated one.

"I should've known you would've done that. You and your little _experiments._ " Harry grumbled out, a trace of fondness sneaking in his voice as he smiled at Kirei.

Kirei blinked as Harry gently hit his arm. "But on the other hand, this one was for you." Harry frowned at him. "And… You owe me, It drove me completely _insane_ when I felt backlash from his terminal illness, but still seeing all of you hearty and hale."

Kirei may as well be doused with ice cold water at this very moment.

He remembered Harry occasionally grumping about this and insisting he checks them over, and all three - four of them, if counting Xanxus, grudgingly allowed him to reassure himself, but to find out the bracelet's effect ran back to Harry….

 _And Kirei had been cocky enough to just give it out like it was a piece of disposable napkin._

Once again, he felt Harry nudge his ribs, returning him back to the present.

"Oh, don't you get all woe-y on me too!" Harry huffed, exasperated.

 _'Was woe-y even a word?'_

Quickly glancing back at Matou, Kirei noticed the humanized worm still had the damned piece jewelry on his wrist - and the man had the galls to mockingly wave at him with the hand the said piece was on.

"But why didn't you get it back?" Kirei's voice was plaintive.

He didn't understand anything anymore. Here he was, fearing Harry's wrath for parting with his bracelet, finding out that it's effects also doubled back to Harry and anticipating that Harry would chew him all the worse for it, but instead….

Harry smiled at him, green eyes practically glowing with appreciation that was completely sincere.

"Because you did a good thing."

And Harry grabbed him by the elbow, directing the young priest to the small table that was loaded with food.

Later on, Kirei would insist on getting another bracelet. Much, much later. But right now, he wanted to enjoy Harry's unexpected goodwill, however long it would last.

And some needling of that oversized worm in human guise wouldn't be amiss, either….

* * *

Squalo was a child. Squalo was a child prodigy. Meaning Squalo, in all of his 8-year old glory definitely didn't want to listen to his tutors more than it was absolutely necessary.

Despite him having completed all of their fucking exercises they loaded him with - and there was a _lot_ of them, Squalo's hand was still having cramps from writing all those essays, tests and whatnot - whoever the fuck had a _bright_ idea to invent calligraphy handwriting ought to be shot and quartered and made to drink milk, not necessarily in that order, but the fact was, those ancient fogeys had overstepped their bounds and Squalo wanted his shot of blessedly sweet freedom. Right. Fucking. Now. He _earned_ it, dammit, and the semi-tallish white-haired child scowled at his twitching left hand.

He managed to sneak out after he successfully negotiated - read: lobbed _signor_ Monterosso's fat head and sent him into kingdom of unconsciousness via baseball bat - and was now free as a bird for, if there was any justice in the world, at least an hour or two before he was to be dragged back to that place of torture under the deceptively innocent name of study room.

"Master Squalo!"

 _Shit._ Paling, Squalo silently cursed to himself. He'd swear those _bastardi_ had to be part bloodhounds what with them sniffling him out so easily.

But no, Superbia Squalo won't be going down without a fight. Clenching his teeth and silently growling to himself, he ducked away from their eyesight.

Xanxus was suffering - okay, indulging his _sorellina_ 's whims. This time, Iri wanted an enormously big ice cream, despite Harry forbidding her. When she turned her soulful eyes at Kiritsugu, she didn't have any success, either, and as such, the newest - and successful - victim to her scheme was one Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine himself. Well, him and his meager allowance.

* * *

Xanxus would've cried tears of blood, what with having to shell out two thirds of his recently accumulated loot to satiate Iri's insane appetite for the cold wonder that was ice cream. But looking at his _sorellina_ 's beaming face, he decided it was somehow alright. Iri was his little sister, so that had to be alright… _somehow_. Big Bro's prerogative and all that.

"So _there_ you are, you little brat!" A harsh voice sounded from his right, preceding the rail thin man with a hawk-like nose and black beady eyes clothed in what seemed to be a butler's uniform. The Beady-Eyed Butler then reached for oblivious Iri, yanking at her collar and causing her to release Xanxus' hard-paid for ice cream cone with a small shriek of fear and surprise.

 _"Sei cazzo!_ What the _fuck_ do you think you are doing to my little sister!" Xanxus barked, bristling out in anger.

The butler eyed him with his beady eyes disdainfully."Zip it, brat! I don't know how much did that howling menace pay you to play a _big brother"_ he sneered at the last two words " - but it's over! And _you!"_ He barked at Iri who shrunk back at his sharp voice. "When you get back you will be leashed so hard you will feel it for _days!"_ Another sharp yank caused Iri to scream with pain, but the butler did not heed it. On the contrary, his eyes gleamed with sadistic glee.

Xanxus lost it -  
 _ **  
" VOIII!**_ THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING, MISTAKING ANOTHER BRAT FOR _ME!?_ ARE YOU BLIND NOW AS WELL AS DEAF, YOU ASSHOLE!"

Both of the sibling's ears were pierced by the loud sound, making them cringe at the sheer volume of the voice.

The originator of the sound was white-haired boy - half a head taller than Xanxus, clad in black shorts with white long-sleeved shirt and an extremely pissed off expression on his face as he ran toward Iri's captor.

"You heard him, now let my sister go!" Xanxus didn't let the opportunity slide past him as he surged forward and kicked the man in the nuts, causing him to emit a pained squeal and crash on the knees while simultaneously releasing his _sorellina._

Xanxus, the little bastard he was, took the advantage of the man's temporary disability again.

Or tried to. He had been overtaken by a wooden sword crashing on the ex-captor's head, sending the rude man into the land of dreams as surely as if it was made out from stone.

Not that Xanxus allowed himself time to marvel at the sight – but inwardly, he had to admit to himself that it was kind of awesome.

" Iri, you alright?" He instead chose to ask his little sister, his voice a little gruff. Not shaky. Never shaky, because Xanxus was a man and men didn't have shaky voices.

" I – " Iri tried to speak, her red eyed huge and watery with fright.

 _"Voi!_ Hey, twerp!" The loud one interrupted her. Xanxus glared at him. Assistance right at time or not, if there was one thing Xanxus didn't abide by, was overly loud voices. And this fellow pressed Xanxus' Berserk Button just _wonderfully._ "Yes, you with messy black hair!"

Xanxus growled.

Oh, those were fighting words, weren't they?

Xanxus stiffened and his eyes gained their characteristic red glare which was a telling sign that someone was about to be crushed.

 _" What,_ you howler monkey?" He spat out, growling. "Wanna die?"

The so-called _'howler monkey'_ blinked, taken aback. There was no one to talk to him like that and he kind of liked it.

It was always " _Master Squalo"_ this or _"Master Squalo"_ that, those fucking bootlickers apparently thought him too dumb to know that he was being called demon brat and all variants of it thereof behind his back.

Even kids older than him treated him with some kind of… urgh, _respect._ Squalo mentally grimaced at the word. Same shit, different day, and it was getting on the _last_ of his nerves.

But this little brat in front of him, who had kicked that Monterosso dick into his 'nads and Squalo was totally sure the self-same midget would rip him a new one if Squalo hadn't heroically interfered via boinking Monterosso's already overly egg-shaped head into unconsciousness.

(A part of Squalo kind of regretted his premature interference, because the resulting fight would've been _glorious_.)

Squalo's lips stretched into a wide grin that was eerily similar to one of a great white shark, about to gulp down it's prey, causing the black-haired midget to glare at him even harder, while midget's midget sister looked at him with her wide ruby eyes, unsure of Squalo's intentions.

(It kind of baffled Squalo how could Monterosso mistake her for him, what with Squalo sporting a short messy cut and being whole head and a quarter taller than her, never mind little kitten being clothed in pink knee-length dress with white and purple butterflies printed on the fabric. Honestly, _how?_ )

" Hey, I like you. Wanna be friends?"

The expression on dark-haired little midget's face was priceless.

Squalo smiled at the brat winsomely, completely sure that his invitation will be accepted with gratitude. He was _Superbia Squalo_ , everyone wanted to be his friend, and this red-eyed midget wouldn't be any different -

"I am _**NOT**_ a fucking midget, you shitty shark!" The 'midget' in question roared back before launching himself at surprised Squalo, ready willing and able to skewer the white-haired boy via his own hands.

What followed was a scuffle to end all scuffles. Neither side came out entirely unscathed - Squalo got a big shiner and Xanxus' nose was kind of busted, not counting all the bruises, pulled hair and scratches.

Both of them were out of breath, grey eyes glaring into red ones while Iri fluttered around them with concern, unsure on whether to help or scold the pair.

" _Fratello-dammit,_ that wasn't nice!" She finally settled on pouting at her big brother.

Squalo stared. And blinked. The corner of his mouth twitched as the red-eyed hellion flushed with embarrassment as he tried to retort back, only for the white-haired midget to scold - more like pout - at him again.

And, _fratello dammit?_ He had to make some kind of a noise, for the black-haired midget to throw a scorching glare at him, but Squalo was amused enough to disregard all the threatenings notions it entailed within.

Suppressing his grin and hiding a wince he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows.

" _Fratello dammit?"_ He inquired, holding back a laugh that threatened to bust out of his gut.

Face palming, Xanxus groaned in sheer embarrassment. "Iri, how many times did I tell you it's just _fratello?_ _ **Fratello**_ _,_ dammit!"

The now named white haired bra - ahem, Iri, gave him a cheerful nod.

"Fratello dammit!" She chirped out, red eyes twinkling with mischief.

Xanxus have her a flat stare.

And this - this was the last straw for the Superbi heir.

Squalo laughed. Laughed until he was outright howling, and after a small pause, both of the strange siblings joined in.

* * *

After their injuries had been tended to - Xanxus was surprisingly adept in taking care of such scrapes, which additionally firmed Squalo's impression that this little midg - Xanxus was not a norma brat by far.

He may have not been in mafia like Squalo, but judging by Xanxus' eyes, he was also not completely ignorant of the underground rules, so to speak. He was also really possessive of his little sister.

(Squalo was kind of jealous - as a single child, the attention heaped upon him could be very frustrating, especially when he had to be perfect, day in and day out. Never normal, always a demon brat. Even if the last one was more or less by his choice, because seriously, adults were so stupid it was a wonder how they even _lived_ as it were.)

Xanxus - last name still pending - was kind of a rude little bastard who knew how to have fun, and took care of his own.

And maybe… Squalo hummed to himself, when he slowly trudged back to the cold, sterile mansion that was his home… in time, he could be a good friend.

(He completely rejected the notion his little wish could fail. Because this was _**Xanxus**_ and for some reason, it was enough.)

(Squalo began to plan his next sneak-capade the next morning. Those old fogey instructors of his can go suck it and get collective coronary for all he cared - Squalo found something infinitely more interesting than stuffing his poor brain matter with completely useless information he had learned ages upon ages ago.)

Still… He winced. Maybe it would be a good move to lay off of calling Xanxus a midget.

Just maybe.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _This was a dream. No,more like a nightmare._

 _This was both reality and illusion. But if he had been asked at this exact moment, which one it was, he wouldn't have known the answer._

 _If there was even any answer to begin with._

 _It was choking him down, laughing at him and at the same time, cooing into his ear like it was his best friend or even lover in this world. It was crying at him to save it, only for it to rip into his guts, face and brain the moment it was gifted with freedom._

 _He had known humans could be capable of very sick things, but witnessing them was completely another thing._

 _Betrayal. Murder. Torture. Violence. Rape. Pain. Pain. PainpainpainAGONY. Mocking laughter and stinging words echoing in his ears, pulling him down and tearing his innermost being apart until he believed them._

 _Believed that this was his sole reason for his existence._

 _(And it broke.)_

 _All those prettily smiling monsters under golden facade of love, friendship, selflessness, gentleness, peace and order - but for what price?_

 _The price, written in blood, broken bones, viscera, shattered hearts, minds and all-encompassing madness that armpaged across his being before it was restored back into what it had been (overly sweet sickness of calm, peace and equality), and then the vicious cycle began anew. Bright soul -_ innocent _soul - being ripped apart - again and again, the process repeating like clockwork, because it was too damned_ naive _and_ trusting _and_ foolish _to like, to love, to_ trust -

 _Harry woke screaming, his last sight was a pair of maddened gold eyes looking at him from the pitch black darkness._

 _(And so it begins.)_


	40. Chapter 40

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters, songs, and all other disclaimer drivel.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Writing like there's no tomorrow. Actually, there isn't, considering we dragged out the talks and writing fell sideways. Life Happens. _Argh!_

 _ **Warnings:** **AU**_ on multiple scales, And of course, blank stares galore. Also, Reborn is seriously shook… _.mwahaha._

* * *

 _I think I'll find another way  
There's so much more to know  
I guess I'll die another day  
It's not my time to go_

 _For every sin, I'll have to pay_  
 _I've come to work, I've come to play_  
 _I think I'll find another way_  
 _It's not my time to go_

 _I guess, die another day  
I guess I'll die another day  
I guess, die another day  
I guess I'll die another day_

 _Another day_

 _[x6]_

 _('Die Another Day', by Madonna)_

* * *

Reborn gritted his teeth. It severely rankled at his professional pride than there existed someone who was more than a match for his skills… and to add the insult to injury, the man in question didn't care. The gaze in those empty black eyes was uncaring, dispassionate and clinical, as if Reborn was just one more corpse to be put to the ground. The man didn't fear him, nor was he angry by his provocations. And this, more than anything, unsettled the Black Sun. The Storm wielder he had faced with was unlike anyone he had gone against before – irritatingly similar in tactics and overall MO while not above taking the pot shots when opportunity allowed for it. But his strange ability of tearing apart the Flames was the worst. Reborn was good, but that kind of sheer brutality was beyond even his scope of abilities or reasoning.

He shuddered to think what could've happened if he were that man's sole target. If he was the Black Sun, this man was a black hole incarnated – destroying everything, no matter its might or power. He still felt queasy at the memory of this placid man practically razing three enemy _famiglias_ down to the ground… in a single night.

(Reborn himself had been completely _dumbfounded_ when he had heard the news of some hot-shot unknown managing to bring down seven _famiglias_ in one night. He himself had known just how hard was that to do - hard enough to require personnel, material and l plans - plans that had to be perfect in every way before they were to be executed in reality.

There were not many _famiglias_ who fit those criteria. Vongola, certainly. Giglio Nero was also one of the superpowers, if one disregarded their neutral state, Vendici could also be the culprits, and very distantly, Simon _famiglia_ …but nobody stepped up the plate to claim the utter disaster that was Massacre of the Seven.

Not that those seven were strong, but with them being in business, so to speak, they had enough of knowledge and experience to avoid that kind of scenarios.

However, something had gone very wrong, and those Riders descended on their collective carcasses like wrath from the deepest levels of Hell itself. )

(Reborn would deny to the end of his life and beyond that he had done a spit take when he heard the news over the radio.)

And it all began with one oh-so-innocent hit.

A hit Reborn, as the World's Greatest Hitman ought to have done within a snap of fingers.

* * *

Right then, he loathed Checkerface from the deepest part of his heart.

Acciai _famiglia._ Rumored to have their fingers in many dirty pies, along with illegal experiments on humans.

Reborn as a hitman was sent to do away with that kind of scum… alone. Well. Not that this was any problem…

… the problem was that someone else had intruded on his turf.

 _Ahead_ of him.

And being very successful in annihilating Reborn's prey all by his lonesome.

(The building was fairly modern one - glass, stone and wood intermixed in minimalistic style, sharp blades of light protruding through the broken windows contrasting the scene of chaos in front of him even more, richly detailing the corpses and blood on the expensive floor.)

The culprit in question had wild black hair - longer and more wild than Reborn's, he was slightly smaller than him, but that didn't stop him from wielding his twin Calico M950 sub guns with lethal precision - and what was worse, the bastard didn't even need the iron sight to achieve the picture perfect shots with it. He was clad in dark gray jeans trousers with black leather bomber jacket with deep gray shirt underneath, his feet in simple dark running shoes.

(Clothing style of this guy was _atrocious_. Reborn had to bite back a shudder of disgust. Sure, the cockroach was a killer, but would it _kill_ him to kill with a little bit more style, really?)

If Reborn hadn't been so incensed, he would've admired the sheer professionalism of the guy. But really, the entire execution style was classless.

 _Disgusting._

As such, he fired, stealing the man's next prey and in process warning him of his existence.

"You shouldn't have stolen my prey, whoever you are." Reborn called out, a slight bite in his voice.

He grinned a cocky grin when the bastard's shoulders stiffened with surprise, but soured almost at once as the bulled whizzed just past his cheek, neatly snipping off one of his precious sideburns.

Reborn's jaw clenched with fury. This lousy, nameless _**bastard**_ dared tarnish his image?

That. Was. _Unforgivable._

His hand clutched around the pistol - CZ75 1ST - and opened fire on the cockroach.

* * *

Kiritsugu Emiya didn't think he would've met the infamous Black Sun on one of his… contract jobs.

There had been that strange man with a checker-faced mask hiding his face, offering him frankly ridiculous amount of money to get rid of Acciaci _famiglia_ for some reason.

Kiritsugu agreed… but only if he got the information about those Flames. He could care less about money and connections - but information was a lifeblood in the work of an assassin such as him. And information that could help Harry was more precious than diamonds.

Luckily Harry had gone off with Kirei to that Tohsaka fellow's marriage, so he was free to do with his time as he pleased.

Even if Harry had known about his contract jobs, Kiritsugu didn't want to expose that facet of life to his most precious friend any more than he absolutely had to.

It was something he had picked up because of his mentor - at first to repent for his failure on the Alimango Island, and then because culling the monsters was what he was best at. He never had any illusions he would someday retire in peace and live his life out like any ordinary person.

No. His path was already wreathed with flames of hell - Kiritsugu was sure he was destined to go there because of his methods.

 _Ten for one._

 _Hundred for ten._

 _Thousand for hundred._

If he culled one, then what did it matter some ten or more civilians died in process?

Death was always an unavoidable, ugly fact of life.

Killers were a breed that held away from each other if it weren't for joint mission. Too much distrust and backstabbing going on in the process.

(If one wanted to live, one had to know whom to trust and when to get the hell out of the dodge, so to speak.)

Among the killers, there were also certain notorious names.

Such as one Renato Sinclair, the so-called World's Greatest Hitman.

Even if Kiritsugu was in the business ever since his childhood, he hadn't met the infamous hitman even once. Natalia had told him some about him when 'Renato' was still so-called milk-toothed brat, speaking with admiration about his crack-shooting skills and lauded him one of the fiercely rising stars of the underground, lamenting the brat in question was apparently too stupid to grasp the intricacies of the true hunt just because he confined himself within the narrow world of Mafia.

Turning around and shooting at one of the enemies charging at him with _\- was that a battle_ _ **axe?**_ \- Kritsugu glanced at the man that interrupted his mission.

A little bit taller than him, as tall as Kirei. Only, Kirei was a little bit more build than him.

The young man was clad in his signature attire of orange shirt with slender black tie, topped up with black suit and shoes, all of them evidently of an expensive make, obviously tailored to his body.

There was also a black fedora on his head, with a wide orange ribbon around its crown. The man's black eyes glared at him with fury, his usually immaculate appearance skewed because Kiritsugu managed to hit off one of his signature sideburns.

The sideburns in question were actually hair, spun into slightly curled shape that should by all means made him look like a sissy, but instead it made him look like an elegant predator… who was now completely pissed off at Kiritsugu's offense of cutting off one of his precious via bullet.

Kiritsugu's eyebrows rose in askance, and for a moment, the battlefield around them froze as the two killers seized each other.

Empty black eyes stared into similarly colored narrowed ones. He had known of the _Black Sun_ , even if they hadn't worked in the same circles or territories. But Reborn was kind of notorious what with his ways of dealing with enemies, and Kiritsugu was not. Very few of people knew of his semi-notorious title of Magus Killer compared to Reborn's overly pretentious one as The World's Greatest Hitman. Kiritsugu didn't mind, but if the man sniffled around his Sky any more, then all bets would be off.

Kirei had told them about his meeting with the overly pretentious prick and how he had been forced to tell him about Harry in exchange for the meager information about Flames and their inner working.

It made Kiritsugu's teeth practically _hurt_ with impotent fury at the man. Since they had come into Italy, they had already gone through some of very thorough lessons that mafia idiots would've done everything in their power just to get their hands on Harry and his Sky Flame.

As some wise man once said - once was happenstance, twice was a coincidence and thrice was an enemy action. First one had been Freccia, second one were those idiotic Seven, and third - well, Kiritsugu didn't have any compunctions in not labelling the curly-sideburns-asshole as the third happenstance.

Him being the Strongest Sun - whatever the fuck that even _meant_ \- additionally rose Kiritsugu's proverbial hackles. Kirei himself was already ridiculously powerful and they shared the same Sky - but sharing _his_ Harry with this asshole?

Not happening in a million years. _Ever._

Lips curling in a grim smirk, he spoke out.

"First come, first serve. Who the fuck are _you?_ "

Judging by the man's comically dropped jaw, Kiritsugu's soon-to-be opponent didn't expect there would be someone that was unaware of his notoriety.

"I am _Reborn."_ Kiritsugu gave Reborn an unimpressed stare, making him twitch before he killed another cannon fodder without even looking from where it was coming.

(It was loud enough to wake the dead. Honestly, was it so hard to find a competent criminal those days? They seriously had to scrape them of the bottom of the barrel if those where the best of the best, really.)

"And I should care, _why?"_ He snapped back, his eyes widening at Reborn's speed when he aimed and fired at Kiritsugu's person.

' _Accel – !'_ He grunted at the fiery pain coursing through his circuits, his brain flying through the possible scenarios, but his face impassive as always, already setting into the Magus Killer mindset.

Hmmm. Maybe this Reborn person wasn't the bottom of the barrel.

…. And judging by _'Reborn_ 's' twitching eyebrow, Kiritsugu managed to speak the last sentence aloud.

Oh. Whoops?

* * *

What followed was an elaborate rendition of what could only be described as gun-fu, both of the opponents using and discarding the members of Acciaci _famiglia_ for live shields, uncaring of their suffering… until both of them managed to empty their munition.

Reborn's brain was trying to calculate his opponent's next move. This brat was unpredictable. Mouthy, certainly, but his fighting shills were nothing to sneer at.

He grunted as he got the knee into his stomach, barely avoiding the accompanying elbow shot that was meant to land into the middle of his back before he retaliated with sweeping the mans' feet off, only for the cockroach in question deftly avoiding the move, showing that he had some proficiency in dirty fighting.

Reborn hadn't fought so dirtily ever since he was a tiny little street brat, fighting for the last half loaf of bread. But this there, he had been forced his usual dignified fighting style because his opponent was too fast and too unpredictable to do anything but follow his rhythm.

He tried to lay some strikes with Sun Flames, the oldest trick in the box, which should, upon striking the man cause injury, and Sun Flames ought to destroy the struck flesh, but –

Dark eyes widened with astonished irritation as he comprehended just what he was fighting with.

A Cloud. Fucking _**Cloud,**_ of all the elements.

The man's Propagation was unreal. Still clumsy - ' _unrefined,'_ \- Reborn corrected himself - but the way it was used to debuff Reborn's own Flame strikes distinctly reminded Reborn of Fon's own style.

He could see the cockroach muscles trembling, indicating he was already at his limit, the amount of lactic acid gathered within them had to hurt like hell, but the cockroach was like machine, completely focused on annihilating Reborn, no matter the price.

 _Block-parry-strike –_

The man ducked, parried and struck with a completely unpredictable move - was that _Jiu Jitsu?_ – Mercilessly lifting and crashing Reborn on the stone cold floor, slick with the blood of their victims.

Reborn laid on the cold surface in a daze, as the man retreated, picking up Reborn's gun, swiftly dismantling it before pocketing some of the most important parts.

Reborn did nothing to stop him.

Everything … hurt.

Like it used to way before he became the so-called Greatest Hitman.

Like it used to when he was a homeless, powerless brat.

The cockroach - _brat_ \- silently picked his own guns, intending to leave the place. Reborn was surprised that nobody had come to check the place yet, what with the amount of noise they had caused what with their traipsing through mansion.

"Hey. " He couged out, feeling blood gather in his mouth as he grimaced.

A broken rib. Well, won't that be a bitch to heal. Hiding a grimace, Reborn began to use his Flames.

(His jacket was _totaled._ Not to mention his shoes and trousers. His personal tailor would cheerfully _murder_ Reborn if they had seen their hand-made clothes treated so callously.)

"What's your name?" He finally called out to his mysterious opponent.

The man didn't look at him.

"None of your business." His voice was cold, detached, like he didn't care that he just bested Reborn out of all people.

And maybe he didn't. Reborn couldn't help but feel a slip of helpless frustration slide within his emotions.

What would it take to make this ice block actually react!?

"But…" The man spoke again, making Reborn blink.

"Stay the fuck _away_ from my Sky."

Reborn blinked, stupefied - and in the scant moment of one blink, the man vanished to gods knew where.

Stay away from his Sky, _hmmm?_

Reborn's lips quirked in amusement, before he frowned, the headache roaring in his head evolving to a migraine when he was faced with the newest dilemma.

Skies that pursued him had were dime a dozen. Hell, even Vongola _donna_ had tried to Sky-court him!

So how in the ever-loving hell should he find the one that leashed this overly possessive monster of a Cloud?

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

Four Horsemen. _Famine. War. Pestilence. Victory._ The most terryfying froup aside Arcobaleno and the least known about one to the boot.

They knew that it included four people. Four people bound to cause panic, chaos and disorder wherever they appeared. The first had been Freccia - a relaitively small famiglia, but one with some notabl connections.

Next hit was bigger - seven _famiglias_ in one night - making some suspect the strongest famiglias, but with them denying any involvement, the investigation had run into the wall yet again.

There ought to be a witness. Someone. _Anyone._ Luciano Alighieri was desperate, and he knew it.

He was sitting in a bar, drowning his sorrows in vodka - wine was too weak for this shit - and ranting at some sympathetic guy.

The only things they had was that one of them used guns, another was apparently an expert at knife work, third was a martial artist that could crush bones and fourth was the great mystery.

He hadn't done anything in the first case.

But case _Seven,_ the fourth culprit used something that could be indetified as falchion sword, judging be the cuts it left behind. Much to their forensic expert's dismay, there were no blade shavings and the only thing they really had on the mysterios murder weapon were a) it was terrifyingly sharp, b) their owner was a tall monster with a strength to match and c) they were apparently _two_ of them, judging by the way the corpses were cut.

And at the moment, Luciano Alighieri was drunk as a skunk, babbling the details of the said tragic case at the tall, white-haired, tanned stranger with steel gray eyes, who nodded at him sympathetically, making all the appropriate noises to indicate his attention to Luciano's woes.

(The tall man was a hunk, clad in dark red shirt and black trousers and why wasn't he picking chicks _again?_ Well, chicks' loss, Luciano's gain. Karma and all that.)

The man was a true God. A Buddha, a divine balm to Luciano's frazzled nerves.

"Oi, Whitey. Ya know I love ya, yeah?" Luciano slurred at amused Archer, while he swung the arm around the man awkwardly, aiming for shoulderd, but ending way lower on the man's hips.

" _Wuww_ you, times infinity. Ya are too good for th's world." He somehow managed to clumsily drag the 'Whitey's head down to clumsily plant one on the man's tanned cheek.

Archer grimaced at the slobber left on his cheeks from the detective's not-so-little smooch, listening with half of an ear to the man's slurred accolades to his person intermixed with juicy curses at the murder suspect.

At this point he ought to count himself lucky not to get one on his lips.

Well, now _that_ would've been a disaster.

(He just wanted to go out and get a drink. _Honestly._ )


	41. Chapter 41

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters or the song. This is the 41th time I am repeating this….

 _ **Shout Out: **_ Wow. All of you are a-freaking-mazing. I am frankly speechless at the level of your support. So thank you from the bottom of my heart, you've been invaluable in the process of writing this story. You make me think, laugh at your quips and give me so many ideas that I can only say one big thank you to you all. Good news: This chapter is long / _snarks_ /. Bad news: I will have to take two weeks' absence to recuperate myself. I am already on the verge of crashing and burning as it is (pulling long shifts… yes, again).

 _ **Warnings: AU**_ on multiple scales, not beta-read and certain baby shark has a traumatic encounter…. Whoops?

* * *

 _We are the heroes of our time_

 _But we're dancing with the demons in our minds_

 _We are the heroes of our time_

 _Heroes_

(' _Heroes_ ' by Måns Zelmerlöw)

* * *

"When you told us about this Reborn person you failed to mention just how annoying he is"Kiritsugu grumbled at Kirei as he entered the living room instead of greeting. Dull brown eyes looked into equally dull black ones as Kirei's forked eyebrows lifted in askance at Kiritsugu's annoyed huff.

The priest closed ancient book he had been perusing before Kiritsugu's arrival carefully before placing it on the small club table in front of him, the table was already overflowing with paper in different shapes or forms - some of them were Kirei's own notations, some ancient writings but both creating an almost indecipherable mess that made sense only to Kirei.

"Oh? You've met so-called World's Greatest Hitman?" He inquired, his voice flat as a board, promoting Kiritsugu to groan with annoyance.

"I've met him, I've fought him and I've trounced his overly pretentious ass. I think half of the reason why he's called _'The Greatest'_ " Kiritsugu made a sarcastic quote via his fingers - "is because nobody else has such big of an ego." Kiritsugu scoffed, undoing his bomber jacket before plopping on the couch with a sigh of relief.

"I've also warned him to stay the hell away from Harry, but knowing him, he will try to hound after him even more."

"Then why did you warn him off at all?" Kirei asked, alarmed.

Kiritsugu's lips curled into a cold smirk as he nonchalantly lifted his legs and placed them on the edge of the club table, despite Kirei's warning glare.

"You could say it's a… tradition in those circles. " He hummed to himself, leisurely pulling out his guns and checking them over.

"If an Element is encroaching another Element's territory or worse, a Sky, they are to be warned off first. If they still _persist_ …." Kiritsugu's empty eyes flashed with cold light of ruthlessness."Well, then they only have themselves to blame."

* * *

Fon didn't know whether to be amused or exasperated at his fellow...co-worker's?... latest plight.

Last night, Reborn came from his hit on Acai's famiglia in a complete disarray, one of his precious sideburns missing, two ribs broken (one, really, the other was just badly bruised,) and his suit was completely and utterly ruined. Considering the kind of fashion snob Reborn was, this was truly and utter and horrifying disaster for the dandy-like hitman. Greatest hitman or not, Reborn's sore point had been poked with an extreme prejudice, leaving him seething mess of swears and oath to subject the strange Cloud by the most horrifying means available. And considering this was reborn they were talking about, this meant a lot.

He had never seen Reborn as ruffled as right then and there.

"How did the mission go?" Fon purposefully kept his voice calm and even, his face not betraying his amusement whatsoever. He knew Reborn would explode on him if he had shown any kind of amusement, so he kept a steel facade on as he subtly prodded the man for details.

"Done, no thanks to that bastard of a Cloud." Reborn seethed back at him, and for a moment, Fon had to pity his bad luck with Clouds. There had been Skull, who was a civilian, and there may or may not have been rumors about his _dolce amor_ who was a little too… persistent for Reborn's tastes and their so-called break up that had been hushed up as a heated disagreement or some such bullshit. But Reborn's latest Cloud disaster was either idiotic or ballsy enough to interfere in Reborn's hunting time - and not only that, but trounce Reborn of all people hard enough for the Strongest Sun to suffer injuries - injuries Reborn had healed, but injuries all the same, as not many people at this stage could've said they successfully managed to give him a _scratch_ if even that...this menace succeeded in outright _breaking_ Reborn's bones, which was a feat in and of itself, knowing Reborn's speed and sometimes outright precognition of his opponent's moves.

"He had to be either insane or have a very good reason to … intercede on his behalf." Fon muttered as he poured a cup of oolong tea calmly, the scent snaking into the air like sinuous serpent.

"He said to stay the fuck away from his Sky."

Fon stilled. "Oh." His voice was faint.

This was a very good reason for someone to attack Reborn. The man was already some kind of a catnip to the Skies - either because of his power, or for women, because he was too damned charming for his good.

Many Elements had tried to stop Reborn from courting their intended Skies, without any success. Reborn more or less regarded them as pesky flies, not worth of his attention. And if there was anyone _stupid_ enough to challenge him directly, the poor bastard was on their own, as it was widely known that Reborn was simply too strong to be leashed that way.

If there had to be someone to truly _contest_ him, there would be Fon, and to lesser extent, Mammon and Verde. Mammon's illusions were second to none, and even Reborn would be hard pressed to go against them if they wanted to use their admittedly terrifying arsenal, and Verde… well, the green-haired scientist wasn't named second coming of Da Vinci for nothing.

But judging from Reborn's growling, there was a new player that could be called their equal.

A terrifyingly strong Cloud. Fon's eyebrows quirked in interest as his blood began to boil in anticipation.

(There was that baby dragon Fon knew it was only a matter of time for him to evolve into a complete monster. The baby dragon had broken at least three of Fon's ribs at their first meeting, after all.)

He envied Reborn a little for his ability to go out and meet such an interesting person on dead-dust boring mission. And suppose Fon met him…how _glorious._ Fon hummed under his breath. If he had been as strong as to defeat Reborn of all people, then it beget question why didn't Checkerface invitehim to their clustefuck of a makeshift famiglia he had gathered around signora Aria. Surely that kind of Cloud would've been better than Skull?

But if that Cloud already had a Sky at the time he had supposedly been invited…

...then why did Checkerface need unattached strongest wielders of of flames, if they didn't even have a Sky for themselves?

"...I don't even know who is his _Sky_ , for fuck's sakes!" Fon unwillingly zoned back to Reborn's little rant. "How the fuck should I have _known_ which one is his Sky when they are clinging to me like bloodthirsty limpets!"

This time, Fon couldn't suppress a small smile at the image of the said 'Skies' in the shape of limpets hanging off of Reborn's form.

"Not many people can say they went toe to toe with you." Fon said diplomatically. But his brain was already whirling through almost impossible scenario.

Fon already encountered one baby dragon…and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that Reborn had been burned by another.

And if Fon was right about his assumption, these two baby dragons had two other brothers...and together they were strong enough to be a part of major news coursing through Italy this very month.

(Not that he would tell that to Reborn. It was gratifying to see the usually composed hitman so unhinged just because he had been unseated from his little throne of being the best in a very unconventional way.)

* * *

"Keep your howling _down!_ " Xanxus snapped at Squalo for what seemed to be the millionth time. Seriously, did that white haired shark ever _understand_ the concept of indoor volume?

The fact was made even worse what with Squalo dressed in some of Iri's clothes as a camouflage. Squalo had managed to sneak out, but with his eye-catching white hair he had been easily recognized as Superbia's heir so the two of them resorted to desperate measures of borrowing Iri's clothes to conceal Squalo's little escapes. Of course, Iri gleefully helped the pair, even cooing how pretty Squalo was and being more or less immune to Squalo's vehement howl - ahem, _exclamations_ that he wasn't _pretty_ , he was out and out _manly,_ a man among men, dammit!

The sight was a little comical, though. Even the biggest of Iri's dress was kind of tight on Squalo's body, like a second skin, and the skirt, that dragged on the floor when Iri wore the ensemble, was a little over the knees on Squalo himself. Squalo also had to suffer the indignity of having his hair be decorated with a pair of cute, pink, glittery hair pins, while his feet were stuffed into too-little flip-flops that held on by literally last thread.

So, there was a sight. Squalo in a light pink cotton dress, decorated with some lilac and pink butterflies on the chest and skirt part, his bare lanky feet trampling over the equally pink flip-flops that looked to be on the verge of dying, his shoulder-length hair on the forehead clumsily pushed back to make it seem like something a mad hedgehog would wear to a frat party, the spikes clumsily decorated with twin overly girly, glittering hair pins.

There was also Iri, clad in Squalo's own clothes - or more like drowning in them - brown short pants were long pants on her, and the white shirt was big enough for her to be almost lost in it like some kind of an albino chipmunk, her long hair put in awkwardly done braid.

The only one that was normalwas Xanxus. Today, he was clothed in his ensemble of black shorts with dark red T-shirt and well-used trainers, his black hair as messy as ever.

"Xanxus?" A voice floated from the kitchen, causing Xanxus to guiltily freeze mid-creeping past the door.

"Yes?" Xanxus cursed himself for having such a meek voice right there and then. Hurriedly, he coughed. "Yes, I mean what do you want? I want to go play with Iri in my room!" He called back as he harshly elbowed Squalo into his ribs while gifting him an accusign glare.

The shitty shark - aka Squalo - glared back.

"I think I heard a voice then. Do you have a guest?" Harry's voice floated neared, causing Xanxus to slump with defeat. Dammit, he never could lie to Harry.

"...It's my friend." He called back, resigned to his fate, but at the same time quietly gleeful at Squalo's look of stricken panic on his face.

Served the idiotic, overly loud shark right.

* * *

"Come into the kitchen, will you?"

Xanxus caught Squalo's hand mid-scramble, harshly tugging him along into the Special Piece of Hell, aka Harry's kitchen.

"Next time fucking _listen_ to me when I tell you to be quiet!" He hissed at his friend half-heartedly steadfastly ignoring Squalo's quiet cussing on the issue, and electing not to hear Iri's all too gleeful repetition of the said curses that fell from Squalo's lips.

Whatever Squalo expected, it wasn't what he had seen.

Judging by how Xanxus spoke of his Harry, Squalo expected someone more imposing looking than this… this scrawny excuse of a - a Sky! Not to mention the so-called 'scrawny excuse' of a Sky was also a foreigner with untrained Flames to boot. So, Squalo said is as only Squalo could. He looked even more harmless what with the cuppa of tea in his hands.

"VOI! You didn't tell me your Sky was a scrawny little bastard!" He addressed Xanxus, not even sorry for the _faux pas_ he had just made. Xanxus' body stiffened at the preceived insult at his turista, and Harry's until then welcome smile - the green eyed wizard chose to ignore what were obviously Iri's clothes on the child's lanky form- turned into a shade darker, chilling Xanxus to his very bones for some reason.

"Now, now. A well-bred _lady_ shouldn't have cuss so much." Harry's comment was mild as a milk, but it may as well be coated in nitroglycerine what with the potential to make the other party explode. Xanxus' eyes bugged out, and Iri covered her mouth, her eyes wide with Harry's unexpected comeback.

A horrified silence. Squalo became red, then white, then green before settling on some sick mixture of all three. "Why didn't you tell me he's a goddamn Brit? I hate dealing with their uppity, holier than thou asses!" He whined to Xanxus, who looked fit to throttle him.

(To Squalo, he looked adorably homicidal. No different from Xanxus' default state, really.)

"An _uneducated_ young lady, then." Harry's kind smile became even more terrifying. "Xanxus, I don't approve of your girlfriend." He addressed his protege serenely, but with a hint of steel under his words. He placed the cup back into the sink as he leaned against the counter idly looking at the 'lady' in front of him.

If Xanxus' eyes were the size of lemons before, they were now definitely size of dinner plates. "She's not my girlfriend!" He protested, while secretly firmly stomping on Squalo's foot to remind him to please be a little more polite -

"VOI! Who are you calling this midget's girlfriend, you scum!?" Squalo roared back, his cheeks completely red with mortification. "I don't even _have_ the proper equipment to be one!" He protested, and Iri had to muffle his giggles behind her hands, while Xanxus just face palmed at his friend's idiocy.

Harry shrugged a nonchalant shrug. " I call things as I see them."He hummed. "As for equipment in question...you _do_ wear a dress, do you not? Dress would be considered an equipment, so your reasoning of not having it in this case falls through."

Squalo wanted to wring the damned _turista_ 's neck so, so much. Or skewer him.

" _ **NO!"**_ I mean the equipment _d-downstairs!"_ He managed to choke out, his voice unnaturally high with anger.

An embarrassed silence. Xanxus didn't dare to groan. This would defeat the purpose of being the only one sane - and most importantly manly - in this case.

Harry arched his eyebrows at the white-haired kid who could've passed for Iri's biological brother if he wore red eye contacts. He enjoyed tormenting him a little… well, a lot. He could see why Xanxus was keeping him, the kid was just too amusing not to be riled up. Speaking of Xanxus….He turned his attention back to the kitty brat who had it coming for a long time.

" _Well._ Okay. I don't approve of your crossdressing _boyfriend_ , then." He chirped out, his smile lightening a bit and why did Xanxus back away? Harry wasn't that scary, was he?

"Too _rude,_ my ass! It was you who - " Oh, look. Baby shark was trying to bite again. But this time, Harry didn't allow him to finish his sentence.

"I didn't _begin_ it. But I do admit to _ending_ it." The green eyed ex-wizard sent an especially sweet smile at Squalo who finally managed to comprehend that he had done something very, very bad, and the consequences may not be pleasant for his skin.

"And, Xanxus?" Harry looked back at his kitty son who was torn between beign mortally embarrased, pissy as hell and resigned to the mess he had inadvertently made with bringing his pet shark home.

" _Do_ bring him back." Harry jerked at Squalo, who was now trying to hide behind Xanxus - unsuccessfully, considering Xanxus' midget size. Tilting his head, Harry sent both of them another serene smile "I _shudder_ to think what his influence would be for someone like Iri." Another smile, this time with a hint of teeth.

….

All three parties - aside from Iri - knew this was already a lost case.

Xanxus wanted to cry. His _turista_ was too cruel!

The duo - Iri elected to stay behind with Harry - escaped with their dignity in complete tatters.

* * *

"Your _madrina_ is a beast." Squalo informed Xanxus, both of them still shaken as they huddled on Xanxus' bed.

"Oi. Harry is a man, you know." Xanxus half-heartedly defended his _madr_ \- his _turista'_ s manly honor.

Squalo shook his head, before he suddenly grabbed Xanxus by shoulders, and begun to shake him madly.

" VOIIIIII! You. Could. Have. Warned. Me!" he screeched straight into Xanxus' face, temporarily deafening the smaller boy.

"I stomped on your foot, didn't I? Trash." Xanxus grumbled back, before delivering a firm hit into the older boy's plexus, making Squalo choke and curl into a miserable ball filled with pain. For such a midget, Xanxus knew where to hit for the hits to hurt like a bitch.

"You could've stomped harder!" Squalo growled out, rubbing the tenderized spot gently as he glared at Xanxus. Why was he best friend with this midget again?

"I am not responsible for your stupidity, trash!" Xanxus growled back, and the brawl begun anew.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 ** _/The starting penalty is five./_ ** A blank voice - genderless, emotionless, yes like it was made from thousands and millions other voices, all of them submerged into this one, echoed in Harry's ears.

Around him, there was a darkness. Not the darkness of the night, but the true, pitch black darkness that permeated everything. Harry tried to see his hand, but he was unable to. His spine was chilled to the very marrow and beyond by that unexpected voice, so real in this sea of dreams.

 _'Penalty? What for? Who was being punished?'_ Harry tied to blink - he was sure he blinked, but it didn't help. There was still that cold, ever permeating, ever encompassing darkness adn him standing in the middle of it.

Was he on the floor? He didn't know.

Was he locked in a room? He didn't know.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he uttered even the smallest noise, the voice continued.

 ** _/Life penalty, body penalty, freedom penalty, fame penalty, fortune penalty./_**

Okay. Harry tried to calm himself down. Sure, it was scary to be recited those penalties, but what did that have to do with him?

 ** _/Give the penalty that extends so much punishment, mud, darkness, and malice. /_**

 _'Oh no. Not me.'_ Harry tried to jerk away when he sensed the voice approach toward him. His heart began hammering like jackrabbit's as he tried to back away, but his body? Spririt? Whatever he was now, refused to budge, as if it were chained down at exactly same spot for some reason. He would be damned if he was forced to become an executor for some insane whacko - !

 ** _/"Elimination of human rights by castration, exile, execution"/_ ** He froze. It was like being both judge, jury, executioner and victim in the same person.

He knew that voice. Or rather, he knew the tone of it.

Implacable. Unmovable. Bored… as if this was only a bothersome byplay in his (?) life.

Harry tried to frown.

What exactly was going on?

He knew those words… and yet, he heard them today for the first time.

 _ **/"Torture and sadism upon the body through digestion"/**_

Harry couldn't help but cringe. Not because he was reminded of Dudley in all of his beach ball glory, but because digestion right then sounded something very much worse than binge eating a fast food.

It was not an enjoyment, but a punishment.

 _ **/"Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor"/**_

Cold. Despair. Mercilessness. Betrayal. Something within his heart twisted and twisted again at those softly spoken words.

Not because he himself had been betrayed, but because whatever it was betrayed, it had been betrayed on such a profound level that there wasn't any despair anymore, but something even worse.

He didn't want to listen to it, he didn't want to be here anymore, period -

 _ **/die./**_

One word. One world that catapulted him from this strange space - prison-dark room screaming with terror as this single word became a guilliotine effortlessly slicing through his neck.


	42. Chapter 42

_**Disclaimer:**_ Aww, yess, no owning this shtick.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Back, story going on and I am at my wits' ends with the workload. I wil try to update as usual, but it may happen I will lag behind because of the aforementioned workload. _/glares at it, hoping it shrinks…../_ It's doubtful if I will manage to update next week, my schedule apparently sniffs out free time slots and packs itself into them... _/sweatdrops/  
_

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU-verse**_ on multiple scales, another lost little birdie, Harry being a bad, bad boy, and Archer's version of history goes kaboom.

* * *

 _I pirouette in the dark_

 _I see the stars through me_

 _Tired mechanical heart_

 _Beats til the song disappears_

 _Somebody shine a light_

 _I'm frozen by the fear in me_

 _Somebody make me feel alive_

 _And shatter me_

 _So cut me from the line_

 _Dizzy, spinning endlessly_

 _Somebody make me feel alive_

 _And shatter me!_

 _Shatter me!_

 _Somebody make me feel alive_

 _And shatter me!_

 _('Shatter Me'_ by Lindsey Stirling _)_

* * *

Darkness, thunder and rain.

Nothing special, all in accordance with all too hot weather and honestly speaking, most of people actually welcomed thunderstorm, even if temperatures have done an abrupt nosedive from their previously hellishly hot peak.

Kirei had read a book in the living room when he felt someone tripping the wards.

A small blip.

Frowning, he rose from his comfy spot on the couch before regretfully closing the book and headed to the door with great reluctance. Nobody should have known where they were, what with bounded fields and wards, but there was someone.

Not that they felt like a threat - and even if they would have been threat, Kirei was confident enough in his abilities to deal with them accordingly.

They also weren't any of those Flame-sensitives, nor were they wand-wavers. That left only one possibility.

 _A Magus._

He opened the door, expecting either Tohsaka or Matou, but instead of that, his gaze slid down, down… down.

… to a tiny person that was wetter than a drowned rat.

The boy - or girl - they had shoulder length hair - looked up at him, their green eyes huge. They were already trembling, and teeth chattering with cold. The hair surely was merciless, leaving their clothes more of waterlogged puddles of fabric dragging them down than clothes at all.

"H-Hello? I am looking f-for H-Harry – _ah - choo!"_ The girl – Kirei was sure that was a girl - sneezed thinly.

Kirei quirked an eyebrow at the miserable wretch at his door. _Seriously?_

" And who might you be?" He inquired, already resigned to Harry's newest stray.

" I - _ah_ – I am Waver Velvet, Xanxus' babysitter." The slip of a person offered Kirei a sheepish, if painful smile on their trembling lips as the priest stared at her in disbelief. "P-Pleased to meet you?"

* * *

Someone was shaking his shoulder very insistently.

Frowning, Harry snuggled back against the warmth - toasty, lovely warmth underneath him that undulated like soft, firm waves -

But the shaking persisted.

"-arry. -ake up. _Harry!"_

Harry let out a petulant groan as he forced himself to open a sigle eye, blearily looking up at the fuzzy shade above him.

Harry's nose wrinkled as he scented the myrrh, blood and olive wood. The scent he knew all too well, because it belonged to Kirei -

Kirei, who, if Harry remembered right, decided to burn the proverbial midnight oil instead coming to was half of mind the young priest was some kind of a masochist, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit exasperated and guilty on the same account, considering Kirei was researching how to get that parasite thing out of his scar.

"Ki - Kirei?" He managed to get out, yawning, feeling a pair of strong arms clutch him to his human-sized body pillow firmly.

 _Ah_. Blindly groping around, his hands felt a firm chest underneath their palms, there was also the faint scent of fire and steel, something like sunroof baking under the sun at noon in summer afternoon.

… Wait. _Chest?_ Harry's head, fuzzy as it was, cleared a little, especially when he heard a belated grumble coming from body underneath him.

"Harry, is it too late to kill the dick priest?"

"Language." Harry's retort was automatic as he stared confusedly into those silver eyes of his newest sleeping buddy.

White eyebrows rose with entertainment and right now, Harry finally comprehended that he had been sleeping on Archer.

Archer, who was half-naked.

Archer, whose chest was warm and firm and - _goddamnit Harry, don't even go there!_ -

Making an odd squeak, Harry tried to scramble off of Archer's body, only to be plucked into Kirei's hold like some kind of humanized teddy bear.

Despite of how mortified he was, Harry felt oddly bereft of the warm furnace that was Archer's body warmth.

(For some reason, Archer, despite him being Heroic Spirit, had the highest body temperature out of all of them, thus making him an ideal body-shaped warmer in Harry's unconscious opinion, much to the chagrin of his friends. Xanxus was the only one who could compete with the sheer level of body warmth, but Archer - well, he was second to none, really.

"Harry, we have a problem." Kirei's breathed out words hit the shell of Harry's right ear, making the already embarrassed wizard twitch and blush even more and those molten silver eyes narrowed a little at the priest's suggestive position. His sleep-fuzzed brain was a little bit more awake, but the situation made Hary want to be unconscious right then and there for a foreseeable future. Or at least until his mortification passed away.

"What kind of a problem?" ' _Back to the problem, right_.' Harry mentally nodded to himself. Yes, Right. That was the most important thing right now, wasn't it?

He stubbornly disregarded his inner self mournful wailing about the divine cuddling he had been enjoying scant moments before. Those cuddles were unintentional and harmless, right?

He tried to wiggle down, but Kirei's hold was uncompromising.

"Harry." Harry stilled at once.

 _Uh, oh._ That was Kirei's priest voice. There was no logical reasoning when Kirei used that.

"Y-yes?" Harry squeaked out as he tried to turn around, which, thankfully, Kirei allowed him to do, before those steel arms clutched around Harry's waist once again.

Green orbs looked into dark brown ones, while Archer bemusedly blinked at the duo, confused at what was going on.

"Why didn't inform me you have picked yet _another_ stray on your way home?"

Harry felt a cold shiver tread down his spine.

"Ah, um…. I forgot?"

Harry squeaked out again, this time really sounding like a tiny mouse.

* * *

Waver Velvet's biggest mistake, aside from entering Clock Tower, was to become temporary babysitter of the terrible twosome of little devils whose defining feature were red eyes.

Never mind that it was him who was at fault, at least indirectly. In an effort to build up the funds to get into England, he had to find some side jobs to tide him over until he got enough money for a plane ticket to London.

Being an eleven year old and looking more like a tourist didn't help his chances, either. So it had been pure dumb luck for him to bump into a teenager that day in the market he went to buy his lunch.

Not only had Harry paid for his food, he also invited him along, seeing Waver's woefully bland choice of food. Waver as his prideful, and wary self, thought first to decline it, only to be steamrolled by Harry's suggestion to be the minder for his little brother and sister while Harry would go around sightseeing with Kiritsugu.

Waver's first thought about the job, was inane and extremely stupid in its simplicity.

 _'Babysitting a few kids. Just how hard could it be?'_

(Never mind that he was a kid himself, albeit one determined to walk a path of Magus.)

* * *

Iri was, if one overlooked her being an albino, a happy little angel.

Xanxus… Xanxus was… a hellion who would chew out anyone's sanity, spit it out and then pretend it wasn't his fault.

Together? The duo was a pair of little monsters, and Waver was left to hold their proverbial leashes.

How did Harry deal with the two of them was surely one of the Great mysteries, maybe even one deserving of a Sealing Designation, because surely, the two weren't ordinary children but little demons wandering the world… right?

After that first day, Waver returned the sleepy duo to Harry, frazzled, his hair and clothes a mess, on a verge of tears and maybe – _just_ maybe, about to strangle Xanxus but for some reason, he couldn't force himself to do the deed.

Damned decency. How Waver wished to be a little bit more corrupted to deal away with that - _that - !_

Harry eyed him with sympathy borne from understanding (he had, after all, have to deal with the same troublesome twosome daily), and that just broke the dam on Waver's feelings of frustration, fears and helplessness completely.

Waver managed to hold it off until the demons were safely away from him, courtesy of Harry's dark-eyed friend, and then, he burst into tears.

A pair of arms wound themselves around him, and soothing warmth pervaded his being, and a part of big, yawning hole in Waver's heart, left by his parent's passing, was slowly filled up with the warmth and hope as he listened to Harry humming a sweet, gentle lullaby.

Slowly, almost unnoticed by him, his eyes slid shut and he drifted off into dreamless sleep, enveloped in the scent of pines, laurel and what seemed air after thunderstorm passing.

Next morning, he was besieged by the twin devils again.

(Xanxus would later claim Waver let out the girliest shriek _ever_ when the two of them pounced on his peacefully sleeping form.)

* * *

The time Waver had spent with Harry's little, if unorthodox family, successfully kept Waver's mind off of his own deceased one - between the two hellions' antics and Harry's care, Waver didn't really have time for regrets and what-ifs, if excluding that meltdown after he got back from his first 'adventure' with the said two hellions.

When the _'babysitting period'_ came to an end, Waver Velvet had been surprised to receive a good payment and Harry, good soul he was, even included the number of his temporary residence in Rome, just in case.

Waver would admit - if only to himself - that he was a little bit sad to see them go, especially Harry, who had become something of a big brother in this short week he had been with them in Pisa.

Sadly, Waver's destination was to England, and Harry's was back to Rome.

(Though Waver promised himself when he would be big and grown up and famous in the Tower, he would definitely visit Harry to repay him for his kindness. Not many people would take a chance on the strange brat such as him, especially when he was a foreigner to boot.)

Three days into his preparations to England, Waver's carefully crafted plans broke into dust.

A feek after that, he found himself in front of a small, unassuming door at the address Harry had given him just in case, almost soiling his pants when the one who opened the door was a scary, forked-eyebrows, stone-faced priest.

In Waver's defense, he was cold, tired, and getting by with the barest margin of Italian he had managed to snatch from his conversations with Xanxus as to fool the well-meaning conductor and a couple of cops that he was really going to visit his sick grandma, nothing more, nothing less.

Wawer hadn't wanted to lie, he was a good kid, but needs must. Much to his relief, his story was accepted - thank Alaya for Harry's insistence with giving him directions to his flat - and six hours later, he had been led into the small living room, given a towel and told in no uncertain terms to _Stay Put ...Or Else_ before the scary devil of a priest vanished into unknown presumably to fetch Waver's good Samaritan.

"Waver?" Waver's hunched form jolted at a familiar voice as his head whipped around to stare at Harry who had been clothed in an oversized T-shirt that reached to his knees.

"Oh my god, it's really you!" Harry rushed toward him, and a moment later, Waver, still dripping wet aside his mess of a hair found himself in the warmest, tightest hug he ever experienced him his life.

It was enough to make his eyes water like crazy as something heavy and dark rolled itself off both his shoulders and heart.

"H-Harry!" He managed to blubber before his composure was completely destroyed as he clung to the green eyed teen like a human-shaped, blubbery, snotty barnacle.

"Shh, Waver, it's okay. You are here, you did well. You are safe now. It will be alright. Okay?"

Harry frantically tried to calm the sobbing pre-teen down, patting his back awkwardly. He really didn't have much experience with calming down hysteric kids aside Waver's one-time meltdown, but this time, it seemed to be something deeper and more serious.

Clenching his jaw, Harry resolved to find out what had happened this time.

It had been hard enough when he had bumped into the small teen that time in the market with Waver holding his pitiful choice of a food for the day, green eyes, so similar to Harry's own when Harry had been at the same age practically making the wizard ache with sympathy for the young boy.

He had thought Waver would have arrived to England safely. He had given the boy money enough and more to tide him over until he arrived to Clock Tower.

But obviously something had happened - something bad enough for Waver to warrant to search for Harry in a foreign land in the search of help again.

"It's okay. You are here now." he muttered to the kid, suddenly feeling too old for whatever it was happening right now. First Xanxus, then Iri, and Harry didn't have doubt that Squalo would turn out one of _'those cases'_ \- and of course, Waver.

Harry just held the kid, weathering through the storm of wails, snots and hiccups that shook the boy's tiny body.

"You know him, then?" Kirei's question woke him up from his little contemplation, causing him to blink and nod.

"I do." Harry replied as he leaned back into the couch, bringing the boy with him, clucking at the drenched state of Waver's clothes and person. "We've met in Pisa." Seeing Kirei's narrowed eyes, Harry glared back.

"I've found him on the market. " he snapped back, prompting Kirei to glare back harder.

"He isn't some kind of a tomato for you to pick up and bring here!"

Kirei argued back, even if both of them knew the argument was failed from the get-go."

"He isn't." Harry agreed, surprising the priest. Kirei's friend looked back at the silently sobbing boy half lying in his lap.

"He is strong, clever boy who intended to go to school in England to honor his parents." Harry murmured, his eyes fond and a little bit pained as he stared at the child.

"He had been helping me to babysit Xanxus and Iri in exchange for some money." Harry's eyebrows furrowed with discontent as he gently tangled his fingers in those wet strands.

"I have given him enough for him to book a ticket plane to get to his destination" A pause stretched between the two of them in the half-darkness as Kirei approached the duo, his steps soundless, more of a wraith than a man.

"We've parted the ways - I've returned to Rome, and he - he was supposed to go to London. "

"And something had gone wrong." Kirei concluded. It was an easy conclusion to make, but that didn't help with the feeling of discontent and something ugly prickling in the back of his chest.

Frowning, he barely kept himself from rubbing that spot, knowing that it would be an useless endeavor.

"- tole it." the boy's muffle voice floated up, but both of them understood at one.

"They stole it." Waver's voice was wobbly, full of anguish and helpless fury. "They stole everything!" A weakened fist hit Harry's tight, making him grunt but otherwise Harry didn't move or scold the child, but his eyes became noticeably more chilled when he heard Waver's confession. Kirei also stilled, but forced himself to relax.

But who would be an asshole, big enough to steal from a child, out of all people?

" Calm down, Waver. And then, tell us what had happened." Harry's voice was a soft, gentle hum, but Kirei knew his tiny friend's temper was just leashed for Waver's sake.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Waver tried to compose himself. With a few great sniffs and furiously rubbing his eyes, he looked up at Harry and haltingly began his story.

* * *

A few minutes later, the living room was quiet. Waver's story was simple. It seemed that he had finally ran out of luck, with some people trying to catch him for no reason whatsoever. Or, if there was a reason, Waver certainly didn't understand it.

In the following mess Waver had to unwillingly sacrifice his baggage, along with his passport and some pickpocket also relieved him of his second share of money.

Next five days he had done random small jobs to get enough of money for a bit of food and travelling fare to Rome. He had snuck into the local library and begged the kind librarian to help him with the Rome's map… and last six hours, he had been walking across the town, until he finally found Harry's temporary home.

All he had known was that those mooks who tried to catch him had been working for someone called Estraneo.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back to the headrest, Harry sighed. It seemed that he was an omen of bad luck for everyone he had came in contact with. First his friends, then Xanxus, Iri, and the latest victim of his sodding misery was Waver.

"Kirei." He addressed the priest quietly, gently petting Waver's hair. It was a string of shitty happenstances Harry didn't think they were happenstances anymore.

Not with everything that had happened in his life up until now. "Do we have any information on them?"

Kirei exhaled. "Not that I know of. But maybe Kiritsugu would know more about it." He replied, quietly dissatisfied with his lack of information on the subject.

"He better does." Harry moved his head in a sharp nod. No more words were needed between the two of them. Meanwhile, Waver managed to completely relax and doze off despite an occasional shiver from his soaked-through clothes.

Gently, Harry shook the boy awake and led him to the bathroom to get him warmed up, with quet request to Kirei to fetch one of Harry's T-shirts and boxers.

Kirei hesitated, causing Harry to send him and inquiring look.

"Kirei?"

He never saw the priest dithering like that. It was kind of… cute, amusing and a little bit pathetic.

"This child… Is a girl, isn't she?" He finally spat out the problem. Harry promptly muffled the snicker of amusement behind a grave sounding cough.

"Waver is a boy. I should know, considering Xanxus pulled his pants and everything down in broad daylight." He replied dryly as he recalled the unfortunate scene.

(Waver's waterworks that day had been _legendary_. Xanxus' awkwardness when Harry had prompted him to apologize to his temporary nanny was even more so.)

Kirei paused. It was kind of impossible to believe Harry's latest stray wasn't a girl… and dammit, here went his latest bet with Kiritsugu. The jerk obviously skewed the odds in his favor, Kirei'd bet.

"He _did?"_ His voice held a faint hint of incredulity.

Harry nodded, this time letting out a chuckle. "Yeah. He seemed dead set to prove that Waver was a girl by any means available."

Kirei stared for a moment. He finally shook his head, exasperated with everything and walked away to fetch the required items.

* * *

"Who is Harry's newest stray?" Archer asked when Kirei came back to the room in search of the clothes. The Servant's silver eyes glinted lazily, sharpening in interest as the priest went to Harry's wardrobe.

Pausing when opening Harry's wardrobe, Kirei looked at him.

Archer was laying in the middle of Harry's bed - hands on the back on his head, chest exposed and sheets ruffled around his waist, looking every bit of a lazy dandy - but Kirei knew only too well that Archer was anything but.

"Doubt you would know that one." The young priest finally decided to answer back.

Archer hummed. "Anything's possible under the heavens." He tilted his head, a self-mocking smile painting itself on his lips.

Kirei kept silence for a minute.

"Waver Velvet." He finally spoke, watching those unusual silver eyed widen with shock as the man shot up as if shot with adrenaline.

Archer spluttered.

* * *

 _Unbelievable._ The world truly had to be going to shit on the fastest track available if there was tiny, baby Waver cuddling against Harry.

Archer felt his headache morphing into a veritable migraine when he tried to rationalize the happenings into something that ought to make bare bones of a common sense in some way.

Sadly, common sense seemed to take a semi-permanent vacation when subjected to Harry and his group of strays because nothing seemed to go by Archer's predictions, or Alaya forbid, expectations..

But seeing that proud, surly man whose alternate version had been obsessed with playing strategic games in this form of a small, sniveling child nestled in Harry's lap was an experience Archer never thought he would have.

This Waver Velvet looked more like a girl than anything else, what with his still chubby cheeks, and only by his hair, shape of his nose and eyes, could Archer guess that this was the late - or maybe future? Lord El Melloi II and Rin's mentor. The eleven year old child was half-drowning in Harry's gray T-shirt while unconsciously nuzzling at Harry's chest, his right hand having a steel grip on Harry's own shirt as if afraid to let go of his benefactor anytime soon.

"So what will you do with the kid?" He silently queried at Waver's current prey which blinked at him with sleepy green eyes.

"Not safe for th' kid." Harry mumbled, barely managing to stifle a yawn and not even flinching at a particularly boom of thunder from outside. "Estraneo - "

Archer paused as his face darkened with memories.

 _Estraneo._ Those damned cockroaches always danced the very, very thin line between experimenting and outright torturing the victims. There had been some instances Alaya itself had sent him to deal with this unruly bunch, but somehow, some always managed to escape him.

Archer didn't care for many things, but he had a serious beef with Vindice for getting in his way when he tried to eradicate the monsters in human skin under the guise of Estraneo Famiglia. Those fools dared to call themselves impartial, hah!

He was really, really tempted to leave around the means for summoning Alaya and let them be Her dogs for an eternity or two. See who would be impartial _then._

"Why?" And really that was the question.

"I am asking that myself, too." Harry's reply was grim, even if half-slurred out. " He didn't do anything to attract their attention. Not like us with th' Flames or 'nything."

Archer had to stop himself from breaking something. But he forced himself to calm down, redirecting his attention to something else. "Flames?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Oh Hell. He already knew this won't lead to anywhere pleasant.

Flames. Goddamn _Flames._ Vindice were nigh impossible fuckers when wielding those dark Flames of theirs, not that it helped them against Archer and his armory - Divine weapons trumped even Flames of Death, and Vindice experienced that bitter fact more often than they would have liked to admit.

But if Waver didn't have Flames - Estraneo was notorious for kidnapping young people with Flames - then what - or better, _who_ \- had pointed out the jackals in question toward the kid's way?

Archer's eyes narrowed as he contemplated the riddle. Waver as he was now, wasn't anything special. Sure, the kid was tenacious, if nothing else, but Waver's real strength…. Archer felt his jaw clench to the point of his teeth hurting under the pressure..

Waver's real strength -

-was revealed only after the Grail War, when he had been deeply entrenched in the politics of the Clock Tower, being crowned Lord El Melloi II and single-handedly raising the flame from the ashes he had inadvertently caused via stealing Kayneth's artifact.

For him to be hunted so soon, something had to be _very_ wrong. Archer shook his head.

"Maybe I am overthinking it." He muttered to himself, trudging a frustrated hand across his hair. Waver had to be a prime victim any was they looked at it - young, naive, in a foreign land - anyone could've taken an advantage of him.

But. Someone had to tattle on the kid. Either that, or they had the kid under surveillance for some time - maybe they were even original culprits behind Waver's misfortune, just waiting for him to break down - only for their plan to be delayed by Harry's intervention.

"Seems I will have to hunt down a couple of rats…" He muttered to himself, his face grim.

* * *

 _ **/Scribble/**_

" _Rise and shine, you idiot."_

 _Squalo twitched._

 _Not many people dared to call him an idiot - aside from his crazy bunch of famiglia, but that outsider…_

" _Honestly, did Xanxus wallop you on the head one time too many for you to cripple yourself?" The stranger ranted at him, and Squalo felt a flare of indignation rise in his belly. But he was too damned loopy and tired to care._

 _Whatever that stupid cow had done to him, it apparently exhausted his Flames to the verge of collapse and landed him into some strange man's room._

" _Voi._ _Lemme sleep, fucker. Or else." He tried to sound threatening, but to his mortification, the voice coming out of his parched throat seemed closer to that shitty chipmunk - Albin or something? Than his own._

 _He tried to snuggle himself in the covers someone had generously gifted him with to sleep off this latest insanity, only for them to be cruelly torn off his body, causing him to scream - and then promptly choke on it as he had been besieged with the headache of the size of Texas. Or Xanxus' ego._

 _He rolled around, eyes flashing with ire and fully intending to murder the fucker, his lame hand wouldn't hinder him, no siree, he was Varia-fucking-elite -_

 _-only to freeze when he saw his savior._

 _Tall. Clad in black robe with wide dark gray ornamented ribbon over his shoulders that fell to the middle of his chest in the shape of V, apparently denoting the man's status. The only colors the man wore were white undershirt with a simple black cravat, which made his form seem even more austere._

 _Dazed, Squalo's eyes traveled up, up and up, to the man's face. Long black straight hair hanging down over his shoulders, pale, almost austere face and dark green eyes - the eyes he knew as well as his own sword. Elegant black eyebrows furrowed with irritation and thin lips curled in a frown - and Squalo felt smaller than a mouse as the man crossed his hand on the top of his chest, unamused with Squalo's antics._

" _D-Do I know you?" He tried to smooth out the first impression, only for the man's eyebrow to twitch violently, and next moment, a hard fist landed on the top of his head, causing him to yowl with pain._

" _Yes, you know, me, you pain in the ass." The young man's voice was deep, smooth and silky and Squalo could've listened to him forever -_

 _Only one person called him pain in the ass. (...when they got over Squalo's overly loud persona, that is…..)_

* * *

 _Waver Velvet was not a happy camper. Getting dropped the sword idiot on him in the middle of his lesson would make anyone cranky, and Squalo's timing couldn't have been worse, and Waver had an odd premonition that him taking the said idiot under his wing wouldn't end well… for all involved._

 _(Little did he know that this was what Clock Tower would later on called Beginning Of The End, or officially speaking, Squalo's attempts to court the ice cold scholar.)_

 _(Waver Velvet would end on the fourth place on the unofficially official list of People Not To Piss Off In The Clock Tower - that is, right after Zelretch, Bartholomeloi Lorelei, and Tohsaka Rin.)_

 _(Squalo would be regarded both as a martyr and a hero for his efforts to woo the ice block of a Black Scholar.)_

 _(The mystery of whether or not he actually succeeded in his endeavor would be forever unsolved, much to the frustration of the next generations of Magi visiting this prestigious institute in question.)_


	43. Chapter 43

**_Disclaimer:_** Me - don't own any recognizable characters or songs.

 ** _Shout Out:_** I apologize for my unannounced absence - had to do some emergency work last week so I was unable to post anything. Yes, it was _that_ hectic. Oh, and one more thing -  change in updating schedule. **_This story will be from here on updated every two weeks_** because I am under big enough pressure as it is in real life. Rest assured, I will keep updating, but at the moment, real life will take priority over writing and I have projects in work that had been set back for absolutely too long for my tastes.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales and things are getting grim.

* * *

 _I need some sleep  
It can't go on like this  
I tried counting sheep  
But there's one I always miss  
Everyone says I'm getting down too low  
Everyone says you just gotta let it go  
You just gotta let it go_

( _"I Need Some Sleep"_ by EELS)

* * *

 _This was a dream. No, more like a nightmare._

 _This was both reality and illusion. But if he had been asked at this exact moment, which one it was, he wouldn't have known the answer._

 _If there was even any answer to begin with._

 _It was choking him down, laughing at him and at the same time, cooing into his ear like it was his best friend or even lover in this world. It was crying at him to save it, only for it to rip into his guts, face and brain the moment it was gifted with freedom._

 _He had known humans could be capable of very sick things, but witnessing them was completely another thing._

 _Betrayal. Murder. Torture. Violence. Rape. Pain. Pain. PainpainpainAGONY. Mocking laughter and stinging words echoing in his ears, pulling him down and tearing his innermost being apart until he believed them._

 _Believed that this was his sole reason for his existence._

 _(And it broke.)_

 _All those prettily smiling monsters under golden facade of love, friendship, selflessness, gentleness, peace and order - but for what price?_

 _The price, written in blood, broken bones, viscera, shattered hearts, minds and all-encompassing madness that rampaged across his being before it was restored back into what it had been (overly sweet sickness of calm, peace and equality), and then the vicious cycle began anew. Bright soul -_ innocent _soul - being ripped apart - again and again, the process repeating like clockwork, because it was too damned naive and trusting and foolish to like, to love, to trust -_

Harry woke up screaming, his last sight was a pair of maddened gold eyes looking at him from the pitch black darkness.

 _(And so it begins.)_

This - he didn't know what to do about this. At first, he had thought it was only a leftover from his little encounter with Freccia and the Seven - hell, he would've accepted even _Voldemort_ at the rate this was going - better have a familiar enemy than an unknown one to deal with, but this one, Harry was at a loss how to understand. Grimacing, he rubbed his throat and resolving himself to gulping another healing draught… as soon as the shakes of his body would subside.

Harry didn't count himself as a coward, but something within those dreams was spooky enough to have him trembling uncontrollably. To sense those feelings so acutely, as if it were him experiencing them –

\- _Foolish, naïve, overly trustful little_ _ **idiot**_ _–_

He cringed into himself, and even huddling into the innermost depths of the blanket, desperately searching for any kind of warmth, didn't help. Grimacing at the feeling of clammy skin and sweat-soaked clothes, he restrained himself from groaning in ever growing dismay.

It had been pure dumb luck that he was far enough with his wandless little experiment as to successfully silence himself. The other piece of reprieve - or perhaps damnation? – was that he begged off sleeping in their usual puppy pile, claiming that with more people, he needed time to himself, at least at night. His friends didn't approve - Kiritsugu's hurt eyes would haunt him to the end of his life, and both Kirei and Soichiro became a little bit more wooden in their interactions with him - but understood. Or at least, they tried to.

His dismay slowly changed into ire. Nothing about this made sense. Frowning, harry massaged his temple gently, trying to keep the shakes under control, but without much success.

Glancing at the nearby clock, irate green eyes widened with dismay as he saw it was just four in the morning. This time, Harry didn't restrain himself from groaning aloud as he covered his eyes, feeling weary to the bones.

Four in the morning. Just _wonderful._

He didn't know how long he could hide this from his friends. Kirei had already been eyeing him strangely, but Harry omitted his night terrors as him not sleeping well and barely defended his little right of sleeping alone. It was both heartwarming and kind of galling that his friends cared for him so much, but _really_. Harry was _fine._

Harry frowned. When he first tried that excuse, Archer seemed to be the only one not to buy it at once. Not that the others had, but Archer seemed to be the least convinced out of them by far and even looking like he knew what ailed Harry….and dreaded it, if Harry interpreted Archer's slight pallor of face correctly.

But Archer was distant those days anyway, even more so, when they had found out about Estraneo and their possible involvement with Waver's little mishap.

Which was entirely another kettle of fish, not that it helped Harry's nerves any. Seriously, at the rate this was going, he would develop a stomach ulcer… or two… or three just because of his nerves acting up about situation.

He would've gladly taken on another Basilisk before suffering that kind of uncertainty again and again... But sadly, his luck on the issue seemed to run out.

Harry shot another cranky glare at the clock before stubbornly snuggling himself deeper into the blanket ignoring the sweat-soaked T-shirt and closing his eyes, trying to get at least a little bit more sleep. Kirei would straight out _murder_ him if he showed up any time before 8 o'clock in the morning anyway.

Harry curled into himself even more and to distract himself from his grim thoughts he began thinking about Xanxus and his group's shenanigans - Xanxus had been ecstatic when he found out that Waver came into Rome.

Waver, predictably, was _not._ Not that it stopped the kitty brat and his entourage of two any. And yes, it was now an entourage of two - Iri and Squalo. Harry exhaled a shaky chuckle when he recalled Squalo's star-struck look when he had first seen the little green-eyed boy.

Stubbornly, he rejected any darker thoughts, thinking only of the kids' shenanigans - it was better than counting sheep, at any rate - until exhaustion finally dragged him into unconsciousness again.

* * *

 ** _/The starting penalty is five./_** _A blank voice - genderless, emotionless, yes like it was made from thousands and millions other voices, all of them submerged into this one, echoed in Harry's ears._

 _Around him, there was a darkness. Not the darkness of the night, but the true, pitch black darkness that permeated everything. Harry tried to see his hand, but he was unable to. His spine was chilled to the very marrow and beyond by that unexpected voice, so real in this sea of dreams._

 _'Penalty? What for? Who was being punished?' Harry tried to blink - he was sure he blinked, but it didn't help. There was still that cold, ever permeating, ever encompassing darkness and him standing in the middle of it._

 _Was he on the floor? He didn't know._

 _Was he locked in a room? He didn't know._

 _He opened his mouth to speak, but before he uttered even the smallest noise, the voice continued._

 ** _/Life penalty, body penalty, freedom penalty, fame penalty, fortune penalty./_**

 _Okay. Harry tried to calm himself down. Sure, it was scary to be recited those penalties, but what did that have to do with him?_

 ** _/Give the penalty that extends so much punishment, mud, darkness, and malice. /_**

 _'Oh no. Not me.' Harry tried to jerk away when he sensed the voice approach toward him. His heart began hammering like jackrabbit's as he tried to back away, but his body? Spririt? Whatever he was now, refused to budge, as if it were chained down at exactly same spot for some reason. He would be damned if he was forced to become an executor for some insane whacko - !_

 ** _/"Elimination of human rights by castration, exile, execution_** _" **/** He froze. It was like being both judge, jury, executioner and victim in the same person._

 _He knew that voice. Or rather, he knew the tone of it._

 _Implacable. Unmovable. Bored… as if this was only a bothersome byplay in his (?) life._

 _Harry tried to frown._

 _What exactly was going on?_

 _He knew those words… and yet, he heard them today for the first time._

 ** _/"Torture and sadism upon the body through digestion"/_**

 _Harry couldn't help but cringe. Not because he was reminded of Dudley in all of his beach ball glory, but because digestion right then sounded something very much worse than binge eating a fast food._

 _It was not an enjoyment, but a punishment._

 ** _/"Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor"/_**

 _Cold. Despair. Mercilessness. Betrayal. Something within his heart twisted and twisted again at those softly spoken words._

 _Not because he himself had been betrayed, but because whatever it was betrayed, it had been betrayed on such a profound level that there wasn't any despair anymore, but something even_ _worse._

 _He didn't want to listen to it, he didn't want to be here anymore, period -_

 ** _/die./_**

One word. One world that catapulted him from this strange _space - prison-dark_ _room_ screaming with terror as this single word became a guillotine effortlessly slicing through his neck.

Harry shot up, the scream still coming from his lips, heedless of the rawness of his throat, and at this moment, he didn't know where he was , or even how, there was only blind sense of panic and profound need to get the hell away from whatever it was that spoke those words.

Was he dead? Or alive? Neither? Either?

 _What_ was he?

Heart hammering against his ribcage, the green-eyed wizard gasped for breath, his eyes wild and unseeing, even if they moved from one end of the room to another.

This kind of terror - He swallowed the saliva gathered in his mouth, its taste bitter and thin, and by gods, he would've preferred Voldemort's Cruciatus to this - this… absolute mind-fuckery. The air his starved lungs forced him to intake felt stale, thin and cold and at the same time too stuffy to breath it in.

He didn't want to breathe, but his body did. Heart still palpitating crazily, he gulped in the mouthfuls of air, exhaling it almost in the same breath.

Finally focusing on his surroundings, he got his bearings by a hair, and when that happened, the adrenaline took a nosedive, causing his until then stiff muscles to unexpectedly loosen up and make him slump back on the mattress gracelessly, his eyes wide with surprise at his body betraying him so suddenly.

 _Ah._ He was in Italy. Yeah. Kirei… Kiritsugu… Harry dearly wanted to squeeze his eyes, but he feared if he had done that, he would find himself back in this starless space that pushed itself onto him from all sides - voiceless, cold, ever-existing nothingness, cut apart only by _that -_

Harry flinched. He didn't dare to think of that voice.

This... was the first time he heard it. Until then, there were only those crazed golden eyes or a silhouette, darker than black or experiencing what this - person had gone through.

Wearily Harry covered his eyes with his palms. He knew that he had a piss-poor life, but this person's straight out blew the shit-o-metre into infinity plus one. He never knew there were so many ways to torture a human being.

To take them apart, mentally physically and emotionally, strip of the skin by strip of the skin, disabling all of his defenses with kindness, gaining his trust and then cruelly breaking it down into smithereens in the same breath –

It was enough for a person to go insane, and this was just a small part of what this person had gone through.

This person - Harry closed his eyes in dismay, only to have them open a scant moment later - this person had to be pushed into the deepest reaches of insanity, until it was not even insane anymore.

 _If that kind of insanity even existed._

This person's voice -

 ** _/"Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor"/_**

It echoed in Harry's brain like some after-torture, a chalk screeching on the board incessantly, niggling deep into his brain as if someone had caught a centipede and forced it into his ear letting it frantically trying to eat its way to freedom into the victim's brain.

Feeling a wave of sickness, Harry shot up, intending to rush to the toilet –

-only for his limbs to betray him yet again, allowing him only to gracelessly collapse half on the bed, and expelling the meager contents of his stomach onto the stone floor below.

He didn't know how long he had been sick - every time he thought of a mere shade of that voice, his stomach undulated into painful cramps, causing him to heave anew, even if there wasn't anything to vomit up, aside the sickly burning stomach acids.

 _"_ _Harry!"_ The door blasted open with a bang and there was Kirei - judging by voice it was definitely him, with some other hurriedly shuffling in.

Harry didn't reply, too sick and weak and _god_ , let it just end already.

A cold hand touched his forehead - after a briefest moment of reprieve, Harry made a weak sound of discontent, trying to move away from the cold touch.

" _Gods._ You are burning up. What the hell were you doing again?"

Harry would've felt amused at Kirei's cussing, but he couldn't find it in himself to be.

Weakly, he tried to shake his head.

"You were alright yesterday - and then _this._ " Kirei was obviously distressed as he ran his fingers to Harry's neck to feel his heartbeat, only for Harry to make a horrified noise and try to struggle away.

The young priest paused for a moment, and then Harry felt a shift and those rough, but elegant fingers threaded themselves on his wrist.

"Is he alright? We've arrived as soon - _Shit."_

And that was Kiritsugu.

"What do you need?" The assassin quickly regained his composure as he asked Kirei.

Harry's sight swam. He made a weak noise that may have been half complaint, half plea and half gurgle as he was carefully turned around and placed on his bed on his back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

"Go brew some chamomile tea. I will examine him and keep the kids away from him."

"Got it."

"Kuzuki, bring a damp towel and clean the mess."

"Understood."

Weakly, Harry let his mouth hang open like a trout on the lake shore, frantically gasping for air where it was none.

"Harry. _Breathe_. We are here, and we will get you through it. "Kirei was a fuzzy blob on his right, brown and black against the gold of the rising sun and for some reason the sight, however fuzzy it was, prompted Harry's stomach to rebel once again.

* * *

Archer had gathered info on the Estraneo _famiglia_ \- and what he found out had made him feel sick to the bones and wondering why Alaya or Gaia hadn't ever intervened in wiping those disgraces out of the existence.

That scum dared to experiment on humans - and what was even worse, they had done the taboo and experimented on kids.

Archer grimaced. This was a crime the Magi knew intimately - but most of the Magi were an unscrupulous lot without much of morals. Mafia, though? Even if they had been a shady lot with dirty dealings, it really surprised Archer that some idiots who apparently didn't wish to live anymore were conducting such unscrupulous experiments.

Archer dearly wanted to take a broken _Gae Bolg_ \- or _Hrunting_ – and pitch in straight into that particular nest of evil. They reminded him all too strongly of a certain old worm. The lot had been quite lucky Archer restrained himself in his astral form, thus was unable to kill them directly.

He was already in a foul mood when there was a harsh tug on his bond with Harry - Archer almost collapsed with having such an amount of Mana forcibly extorted from him, leaving him to feel as if he had been drowning, but then Independent Action kicked in, supplying him with some mana from reserves for such an emergency.

Archer swore in many languages he had learned in his wandering across Earth as he willed himself to appear back at his Master's place, heedless of the cost this little action would cost him.

* * *

Kiritsugu barely blinked as Archer appeared in Harry's room. The Servant looked pale and haggard, looking very unlike his usual self, and if circumstances would've been different, Kiritsugu would've taken some joy out of the sight, but right now, he barely glanced at him, his sight glued to the pale and shivering form lying on the bed.

Luckily Kuzuki had herded the bratty trio away, though Xanxus shot some suspicious glances at the assassin, clearly not believing his explanation that Harry was feeling slightly sick, but complied with the order anyway, even if that meant the three kids - Squalo was thankfully absent today - camping in the living room as they waited for the news about Harry's state.

"It's no good." Kirei spoke out through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he kept up the steady stream of Sun Flames feeding them to Harry's body via his hands on his chest. "Whatever it is, it's eating out his energy - and a great deal of it."

" _You_ 're telling me." Archer's peeved voice was exceptionally hoarse. "It even had the galls to suck out _my_ energy while it was at it." Archer wearily threw himself into the nearby chair. "The only time I've ever felt that was when I had been on the verge of going way past my circuits' and mana capacity."

This earned him a sharp glance from both the assassins in question.

"So it eats mana." Kirei concluded. Archer grimaced as he closed his eyes. "If it weren't for my Independent Action, I would've been a goner." He confessed, ignoring the silent intake from Kiritsugu. "This thing - whatever it is - sucked out practically everything."

"But it shouldn't." Kiritsugu's brain was flipping through data frantically, desperately searching for something useful. _Anything._

"It _shouldn't."_ Kirei agreed, his voice grim. "But it's baffling that it decided to attack Archer first and Harry second. If we postulate that Harry has a bigger pool of mana, he would've been much more tempting target from the get-go."

"It isn't, if its target isn't Harry himself, but Archer." Soichiro's voice startled all three of them as the grey-eyed assassin entered the room, silent as a ghost.

The tall assassin placed a basin with cold water on the table before dipping in a face towel to soak it with the liquid and then wringing out the excess liquid. Quietly, he folded the towel before placing it on Harry's forehead.

"The War is not for ten years yet." Kiritsugu spoke slowly, dark eyebrows furrowing in discontent. Something wasn't right, and it galled his temper something fierce.

"That doesn't mean nobody is preparing themselves ahead of it." Kirei shot back pragmatically.

Kiritsugu stared at him with disbelief. " _Ten_ years ahead?" His voice was dripping with incredulity.

"Einzbern." Kirei's reply was succinct and cold, prompting Kiritsugu to snap his jaw shut.

A short spell of silence reigned in the room. "Then explain it to me how did Harry out of all people managed to wind up with Commanding Seals and Summoning _this_ brat here – " Kiritsugu pointed out at Archer, ignoring his offended splutter – "Without any foreknowledge about Grail War and other shit."

"He didn't." It was Archer who spoke out first, his voice reed-thin as both of the assassins looked toward him. "I saw it." Pale white eyebrow twitched with irritation as Archer remembered the occasion. "It's absolutely _baffling._ I would've said Harry had either an EX or F-ranked Luck for some reason."

"Then how did he Summon you?" Kiritsugu pressed on, his eyes shrewd in the hunt for new information as he leaned forward.

Archer grimaced, apparently unwilling to say it. "Zelretch." He finally spat out, growling, and the expression on Kiritsugu's face was priceless.

He inhaled. "One day, the old vampire bastard skipped up to Harry, had nice little cup of tea with him, and then, I suppose he had sneaked him the catalyst with pre-prepared summoning circle within it. All it was needed was Harry's blood and his mana, really."

 _"_ _Fuck."_ Kiritsugu's expletive was seriously emphatic. Harry catching Zelretch's attention was bad, bad news. The old troll wasn't one to help if there wasn't something along to entertain him for a time. Kiritsugu dragged his hand through his hair tiredly.

"And…" Archer hesitated. "I saw his life." He fought not to flinch under the three assassins' glares.

"It's a standard Servant mojo, really," He tried to hurriedly explain. "In order for Servant and Master to understand each other, they dream of each other's lives. So in short, I saw Harry's life, and Harry ought to have seen mine. Though…" He bit his lip, gray eyes looking at the pallid form on the bed, concerned.

"Whatever he dreamed about, it didn't seem like he dreamed about my life."

"You are saying someone _hijacked_ your connection with him?" Kirei cottoned on, sharp as usual.

For a moment, Archer didn't answer. It was as if he didn't even hear the question aimed at him.

Blinking sluggishly, he glared at Kiritsugu who sharply prodded him into his ribs.

"Coulda've been." His voice became muffled and slurred before he vanished off in thin air, leaving Kiritsugu to stare at the chair with surprise, and Kirei to let out a vehement curse.

"God-fucking- _dammit._ " Both Kiritsugu and Soichiro looked at the usually calm priest dumbfounded after nearly getting a heart attack over hearing _Kirei_ out of all people cursing.

Kirei was sweaty, disheveled and right now, his eyes were wide with panicked urgency.

 ** _"_** ** _The shard. "_** Two words, but it made both Kiritsugu and Soichiro blanch.

"We've _wasted_ time. And meantime, this shard acted as a secondary catalyst and Summoned - or tried to Summon – another Servant." Kirei grated out as if the fact physically pained him as he looked at Harry whose breathing was so shallow it couldn't even be called breathing at this rate.

"It's using Harry's mana. I should've _known_ it – it was obvious enough, he was unwell and he had trouble sleeping. "Kirei spat out, furious at himself for his oversight. "And the headaches began after Archer's been Summoned, but I had attributed that to the stress he had been under lately – "

"How sure are you?" Soichiro interrupted him, his gray eyes cold steel.

Meanwhile, a dark gray entity snuck on the bed, cuddling against Harry's semi-conscious body purring gently all the while it snuggled against him.

Kirei looked at Soichiro. "Completely." He spoke the damning answer.

Dull green eyes blinked open, staring at the front sightlessly as their owner's intake of air deepened a fraction.

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _"_ _Apologize." The demand was cold like ice, and any sensible person would have caved in, especially if it had been spoken to them._

 _Unimpressed, Harry stared at what could only be a grown up version of what seemed to be a mixture of both Malfoy Jr. and Malfoy Sr., but with a slightly less questionable but still outdated fashion sense._

 _The stranger in question was taller than him – Harry despised his odd luck of being smaller than most of the people and seemingly doomed to remain a shrimp for the rest of eternity – the man was clad in navy scholar coat, complemented with white gloves while his legs were encased in black pants and equally colored shoes. Even if the ensemble was simple, Harry would bet his vault the cost of it was anything but. The man had light blond hair in the style reminiscent of Draco's own (gelled-back helmet hair, only with less hair gel in works), with leaf green eyes._

 _He could've been considered handsome, if not for his barely existent eyebrows and too haughty face._

 _And oh, let's not forget his better-than-thou attitude that irked Harry something fierce._

 _So this Malfoy off-shot - Harry was_ sure _he was one of theirs somehow - waited for Harry to apologize for… what? Bumping into him? Because he wanted to impress that whiny red-haired chick that inadvertently gave Harry flashbacks of his own red-haired stalker Harry had left behind in magical world?_

 _Harry glared harder._

 _The Malfoy reject lifted his chin, and glared back even harder and if glares were ice, Harry would've been pretty chilly cube ten times over by now._

 _"_ _I've met many pricks in my life." Harry began slowly, causing the Malfoy Offshot's glare to chill even more._

 _"_ _But_ you _, sir, are a fucking_ cactus.


	44. Chapter 44

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own this or the song used. By the way, pretty much peeved at the way Eurovision 2018 had panned out. (Yes, I've murdered my writing time via watching finale… Sorry!) But on the other hand, I am a winner, having the chance to listen to so many good songs../ _blissed out_ / _Ahh_. Yeah, one of them used there, go listen to it on Youtube.

 ** _Shout Out:_** Here again, live, feeling a little less than a roadkill, but still a morning zombie... Attending congress does that to a person. And I still have to write that report thingamajig.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, the fight is ON, and ... hmmm.

* * *

 _Braccia senza mani  
Facce senza nomi  
Scambiamoci la pelle  
In fondo siamo umani  
Perché la nostra vita non è un punto di vista  
E non esiste bomba pacifista_

 _Non mi avete fatto niente_  
 _Non mi avete tolto niente_  
 _Questa è la mia vita che va avanti_  
 _Oltre tutto, oltre la gente_  
 _Non mi avete fatto niente_  
 _Non avete avuto niente_  
 _Perché tutto va oltre le vostre inutili guerre  
Le vostre inutili guerre_

( _"Non mi avete fatto niente",_ by Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro - Eurovision 2018 final)

* * *

Fucking _hell._ This was _not_ happening. Not now. Not when they were finally on a good track - Harry was safe, or as much as he could be, considering those mafia dogs were sniffing around, they were together and -

Kiritsugu clenched his teeth.

 _"Give me your Flames!_ " Kirei's bark had him moving before Kiritsugu himself even knew what he was doing. The priest was sweating heavily as he forced his own energy into Harry's non-responsive body, and only the faint beating of Harry's heart assured him that his friend was indeed still alive.

"What are you going to do?" Kiritsugu asked, even as he placed his own hands over Kirei's , barely managing not to flinch at the heat they emanated, like they were miniature suns in and of themselves.

"I'm going to try and either force the shard out or suppress it - whichever works first - " Kirei exhaled a startled hiss as he felt Kiritsugu's Flames intermixing with his own.

The sensation was unpleasant, and that was saying it mildly. Their Flames tore at each other, snarling like two vicious beasts, wanting to gut each other the worst way they knew how, Kiritsugu's Storm and Cloud Flames clawing at his own Sun and Mist ones, rendering them apart heedless of being wounded in return, the mutual regeneration and destruction heightening to a fever pitch -

\- Only to be slammed down by both Lightning and Rain. It was as if gravity had multiplied itself many times over, pressing both of their combined Flames - _down_ , until they _stilled._ If the two of them were enormous ancient beasts, this one was a primordial force of nature - unyielding, unmoving, and of such weight that if wanted to, it may even stop time.

Kirei twitched, and even that minute movement was done with truly herculean effort.

In that instant, he had been reminded just why was Kuzuki main separator when their brawls went out of control.

The gray-eyed assassin may have been an unassuming wallflower at first glance, but when he struck, he struck _hard._

"We don't have time." Kuzuki's breathing was heavy, as if he had ran three marathons one after another without any pause between them. "Harry needs us."

Kirei stilled. How could he forget? How could both of them forget so _easily?_ Pressing his lips in an annoyed hiss, he mentally expanded his senses outward and inward, this time determined to exterminated the pest in question so completely it would cease to exist… _period._

Instead of falling into gentle orange warmth, he felt himself being plunged into an oppressive black hole of…

 _Nothingness._

Kirei felt his heart screech to a stop in this moment, as if a giant punched it with all of his might.

Harry wasn't here, which made this little rescue expedition all the harder.

And he still had to reign all the Flames those two bastards at his back heaped on him…

While time… was running out.

Grimly, he reached for Flames - his ones were first to bend to his will, however unwillingly, but Kirei wouldn't allow himself to bungle this. Not this time. _Not ever._ It was too important to let something so insignificant as little pain ( - _agony_ \- ) stopping him while he was at it.

* * *

 ** _die_**

 _Harry choked on the word. It was like thousand sharp knives perforating his whole body, granting him instant death, yet still leaving him alive._

 _Someone once said that words held power, and right now, the green-eyed wizard had experienced that little fact in all of its ugly truth._

 _He couldn't escape. He was hanging in the middle of that dark nothingness, million voices melded into one pounding into his ears._

 ** _"Scorn from the judgment and selfishness that takes away men's fortunes."_**

 _The voice itself was not loud, yet to Harry, he felt as if it would break his eardrums at any given moment, right there and then._

 _He was like a frog, about to be dissected, pinned down and helpless to that entity - whatever it was - to do with him at it pleased._

 _He was smaller than an ant, lesser then a speck of dust. He wanted to cover his ears, to not hear this horrible voice anymore, but it was_ everywhere _._

 _He tried to scream, to beg off what he knew was about to come -_

 ** _/death penalty penal servitude imprisonment custody fine penalty, crime from a grudge, crime from self-interest, unconscious crime, self-conscious crime, civil war, inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, bombing, violation, negligent homicide, mass violence, death at work, overconfident accident - /_**

 _All of those crimes flashed in front of his eyes, he was a the culprit and a victim, the double sensations sickening him to the bone, because he wasn't evil, he was good, he wouldn't have done such things, and yet -_

 ** _Die_**

 _Death would have been a relief, even as gruesome as it was, because at least then, he would have some peace, but his eyes, all of his senses, were drilled into anew, experiencing next cascade of lawless acts -_

 ** _/- misdiagnosis, concealment, violation for benefit, violation for self-protection, violation for love, violation for respect, selfish ███_** _██. /The last word, Harry couldn't comprehend, but it encased something so terrible it didn't really need words to be described. Sensations alone were enough._

'Wake up.' _He tried to tell himself. This was just a dream, a nightmare, and weren't they easiest to get rid of, if one woke up?_

 _But his self-encouragement was a tiny drip of white in an overwhelming blackness._

 ** _/Stealing fraudulent fraud concealment murder theft crime crime personal grudge attack attack attack attack dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone for everything/_**

 _The words pounded through his skull - no, his very_ being _, sullying it with its weight and atonement sounded like most terrible crime of them all._

 _He was dirty. It didn't matter whether he had done those evils or not - just by witnessing them, he was dirty, unable to find redemption._

 _"_ _ **This world is ruled by something not human"**_ _The voice hissed in Harry's ear almost lovingly, gifting him with this piece of knowledge, a precious apple straight from Eden's garden, gleaming, fat and juicy, perfection marred only by two bites already taken out of it._

 ** _/Know the conscience to reform crimes./_**

 _Blood in his mouth, bitter and sweet and rich with iron, the life-giving liquid as the last sentence struck through him like a spear made of fire, ice and lightning._

 _Two golden pinpricks in the distance gleamed in the profound darkness and instinctively, Harry tried to back away only to -_

 _ **Die**_

 _He was crucifixed._

 ** _Die_**

 _He felt the nails of iron maiden penetrating his body, breaking his bones and_

 ** _Die_**

 _He was being quartered and burned, all at once -_

 _ **/Know the penalty to reform crimes./**_

 _The voice continued, almost kind in its inhumanity. Harry wanted to scream, but his voice was absent. He wanted to let go, but whatever it was, it kept his mind sane through everything - through all the crimes and punishments for them._

 ** _/People's kindness is here./_**

What _kindness? If that was kindness, he would have preferred rabid wild animals instead of that - !_

 ** _/There is so much it cannot be noticed./_** _The voice continued slickly while those two golden pinpricks came closer, seemingly floating at Harry's height, the voice almost taking pleasure from Harry's own suffering._

Almost.

 ** _/Know the violence to hide crimes. /_**

 _Harry wanted to close his eyes, yet they stubbornly remained open. Was violence truly the only answer? Instead, his eyes were glued to those two pinpricks closing in on him._

 ** _/Know the power to hide crimes./_**

 _Harry wanted to laugh. It was insane. It was so, so very_ simple. _Power and violence. Violence and power. Whoever exerted the most violence, they were the most powerful, weren't they?_

 _Those approaching twin golden pinpricks turned out to be eyes._

 _Golden, with black irises, the color of abyss. And finally -_ finally, _the voice ceased to come from around him, and instead, only from that - person? - in front of Harry._

 _Which was a torture on its own. The being's voice still warbled a little, as if trying to force disharmony of containing many voices out of his own, but it was here, and right now, Harry was not Harry anymore, but a mess of senses, memories and pain._

 ** _/People's malignance is here_** _. **/** This person continued speaking, matter-of-factly, like a scientist above human experiment - fascinated, but utterly detached from the inhuman agony he was causing to live being in front of him via his experiments. _

**_/It is so rare that it is noticed. A hundred kindnesses and one malignance./_** _The person in front of Harry cooed out, caressing this fact like its most beloved treasure._

 ** _/Malignance shines bright to keep the balance and exists as a great "evil" to compete with the masses of kindness./_** _It concluded gleefully._

 _Harry was struck with vision of a kind youth who -_

 _-but just as fast as the vision came, it ripped itself apart, as if someone couldn't bear to show this facet of himsel - itself?_

 _There was a breath on Harry's face, the scent of rotten corpsed and stale blood intermixing with the sharpest of steel and hottest of fires -_

 _The beast was here, almost purring and something crawled within Harry's proverbial skin like million army ants biting him all at once -_

 ** _The starting penalty is five_** _. It breathed out as it would to their lover -  
_ _ **die**_

 _Harry died._

 _ **die  
die  
die**_

 _He died and died again, a million and thousands of death all at once, present and conscious for each one of them -  
_ _ **die**_

 _-until it stopped._

 _The green-eyed wizard could've cried with relief, but being safe from this monstrosity felt just as raw, if not more so, than being tortured._

 _This unexpected warmth/shield was tiny - a smidgen, really, but it crept from his chest in a wave of color, similar to aurora borealis - yellow and blue, red and green, violet and indigo with a tiny flicks of golden and orange -_

 _And Harry could finally_ see _._

 _In front of him, there stood a teenager clad in tattered red waist cloth, his skin dark and darkened even frother with red and black tattoos, with black bandana on his head full of spiky black hair, his lips curled into a smile that looked both nonchalant and perverse at the same time._

 _He was as average as one could be, except he was mired into the darkest of humanity. Thin lips opened, and the teenager spoke a singular word, wielding it like a spear that never misses._

 _ **die**_

 _Harry smiled._

 _The smile caused the youth in front of Harry to frown with Harry's contrary reaction._

 _And then, there it was._

 _Harry could feel - of course, the feelings were raw, bordering to a pain, but Harry welcomed them wholeheartedly._

 _Sun's harsh rays. Storm's rage. Lightning's merciless strikes. Mist's deceit. Cloud's ever-distance, and Rain's relentlessness._

 _Kirei. Kiritsugu. Soichiro._

 _His friends. He may not have seen them, but he felt them as sure as the sun was rising each day._

 _They were there. With him._

 _He looked at the pitiful being in front of him once again._

 _He opened his mouth - as broken, bloody and massacred as it felt - and spoke._

 _"You didn't do anything to me."_

 _Golden eyes widened with outrage. And the youth's hands, clad in black bandages, clenched with fury._

 _Emboldened now, Harry continued, feeling the inexplicable truth of the statement coming onto his lips._

 _"You didn't gain anything."_

 _So why?_

 _Why all that farce?_

 _Harry's eyes were clear when he looked into golden eyes, the eyes of a child as he looked at the trembling form in front of him._

 _Sure, the tattoos were grotesque, ugly beyond anything Harry could describe, but below it -_

 _There was a human being, wasn't it?_

 _Green clashed with gold._

 _"You haven't done anything to me." Harry repeated, his voice gentle as he reached out to touch the apparition, only for it to flinch away as if expecting to be struck, an ugly snarl - like that of a beaten wolf's - on its lips._

 _ **/** █_ **_for self/_** _It spoke out, lashing out with all the hatred it contained. Harry flinched back, but persisted._

 _ **/** █_ _**for self/**_ _It repeated once again, the words even stronger than before, but this time, Harry was ready for it and persisted under the onslaught._

 _ **/** █_ _**for self/**_ _It backed again, as Harry stepped - floated? Forward, its eyes widening with the ever-increasing panic that its only defense had been conquered so easily._

 _But Harry smiled. Against everything and anything it threw against him, he smiled, and reached his hand out again in hopes to reach the being underneath the mire of mess called tattoos._

 _"You didn't do anything to me. Why are you doing that?" He asked, confused as he frowned._

 _This… Something was wrong here. The darkness shuddered - Harry didn't know how the darkness could_ shudder _, but it did._

 _The stranger's voice rose in pitch, as he backed away, and Harry lunged forward -_

 _/ █_ **_for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self █_** **_█ for self inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, infringement, dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone atone atone with death!/_**

 _It's voice rose, almost screeching out the last words when it fled - Harry barely brushed the shade's wrist before it was jerked away from his grip and he crumbled under the weight of curses, his eyes blinded by knife sharp white light -_

* * *

Kirei panted harshly, his lungs hurting, practically starved for air. All three assassins had collapsed on the bed, their chests heaving from monstrous effort the exerted to pierce the darkness and tear Harry's soul away from whatever it was that it had him under its thumb, alongside Sealing the little fucker underneath the most complicated Seal Kirei had known to use.

Not that the last thing was hard to do, what with shade practically fleeing into the pre-prepared cage, but it had taken time to construct it - time they had to leave Harry under it's tender mercies.

Kirei clenched his jaw. _He was too late_. He was too goddamned **_late_**. And this last curse.. He grimaced. He had to spin their Flames just so to stop the curses from reaching Harry, especially that last volley, but he had a sinking feeling that his action would only lead them to the bigger mess they had already all been in.

His clothes were uncomfortably sticky with sweat and his body ached - not with the aches from extreme overexertion like he was wont to do, but from torture. There may have not been any visible signs on his body, but Kirei knew all of their minds would bear the scars from this…and he feared what the prolonged exposure have done to Harry.

With much effort, he lifted himself up and looked at his friend.

Harry's skin was clammy with sweat too, a little bit too pale for Kirei's tastes, but thankfully the sickly pallor he had on before had vanished. The scar on his forehead looked raw, but as Kirei extended his senses, there wasn't any taint underneath it as it had before.

 _And he was Kirei's._ Blank brown eyes flashed with terrible possessiveness as Kirei smiled upon his greatest treasure.

* * *

Kiritsugu felt like he had been in the worst war of his life. Kirei, that dirty fucker, was one greedy son of a bitch. Not that Kiritsugu minded when it was about Harry's survival, but the sheer amount of Flames the priest had demanded was _absurd._ It left Kiritsugu wrung out like an overused rag. He had given everything and more for them to launch that two-pronged attack. He didn't exactly agree with Kirei's tactics to have the trap constructed first before saving Harry, but his Magus Killer mindset prevailed over his more tender sensibilities on the issue.

 _It was worth it._ If it was for Harry, then everything was worth it. Kiritsugu felt Harry's body close to his own and right then and there, he would murder anyone who would even dare to _touch_ even the smallest hair on Harry's body. Harry was his and his _alone._

He inhaled the scent that was typically Harry - laurels and thunderstorm in the making, and smiled a small, crooked smile.

He knew there was something wrong with him thinking like this, but at this moment, he didn't give a _shit_ about it.

* * *

Kuzuki fought to stay in command of his body - just in case if anyone came in to attack them. Rationally, he knew that wasn't possible, but some deeper, more primal part of himself nagged him to be on edge, to watch out for the possible intruders and stop them before they could do anything.

So. They had looked into the abyss and survived. If only barely.

Kuzuki had seen many horrors in his lifetime, but this…. Exceeded even the most horrifying scenarios in his mind. His heart squeezed when he thought of Harry - he felt guilty of acceding to Kirei's plan, even if rationally speaking it was the most logical to one to proceed with - but for what price?

Closing his eyes, he inhaled, feeling the needles of agony prick his lungs fiercely. He felt the weight of that mire within his soul - he was dirtied even more than he had already been.

 _Broken. Dirty. Unworthy._ _Damned_. And Harry had been damned along with him, just because of that thrice-cursed scar.

Kuzuki would have felt guilty - a tiny pinprick of his conscience demanded so, surely, but that only meant that if nothing else, Harry would now _understand,_ and that... meant that he, Kuzuki, had a chance.

* * *

Xanxus fidgeted in front of the doors that led to Harry's room.

Harry's Guardians - and Xanxus was not in the habit of lying to himself, those three assassins were Harry Guardians - were monsters.

The amount of used Flames - was giving him a mother of all migraines, even if right now, there was only a residue of them.

But before - Xanxus swallowed nervously at the memory - before, it had been something he could only compare to the explosion of Vesuivus. The oppressive presence practically forced Xanxus on the ground, and if it weren't for Iri, both him and Waver would have suffocated under the sheer amount of them.

Logically, Xanxus already knew that fact. But even witnessing them topple down mafi _a famiglias_ within their strongholds one after another didn't convince him of that fact, considering they didn't really use their Flames aside that one-time deal when Xanxus managed to piss Kiritsugu off into Flame Rage that was thankfully halted by Harry's presence.

He had known that potential of his _turista_ 's three friends was extremely vast.

However, using both Flames and their own potential to the max… this was something Xanxus never though he would have witnessed to for a long time coming.

And what was all the more terrifying - their Flames became more tamed and refined the longer they were giving them off, indicating the three assassins in question were advancing by leaps and bounds unheard of.

But what truly terrified him was that cold, dark edge which crept itself within their Flames at the last stage, before all of that inhumanly oppressive force had been sucked in, as if it never existed to begin with, leaving him uncomfortably lightheaded and scared out of his wits.

He wanted to go in, to check on his _turista_ \- but something nagged him that if he did so, the three monsters within the room wouldn't hesitate to tear him apart, the fact of him being Harry's son notwithstanding. Iri squeezed his hand, her crimson eyes, so like twin rubies, filled with understanding and solemn empathy, while Waver hugged both of them, providing them meager comfort in lieu of Harry, Waver's face chalk white with shock and worry about the four people ensconced within the room on the other side of the door they were stading in front of.

Outside, life was going on.

* * *

 ** _Scribbles_**

 _Tsunayoshi Sawada was universally known clumsy, no good kid._

 _And of course, because he was clumsy, no-good kid, he was first one to be forced into that ghost house at the outskirts of Namimori forest, just because._

 _The 'ghost house' in question was actually well-kept traditional Japan house, but considering nobody had seen no hair nor tail of its residents, the people of Namimori called_ it _haunted and were done with it._

 _However, because kids were be cruel, Tsuna was the lucky one who was sacrificed - ahem,_ offered _\- to find out if the rumors were true._

 _He somehow managed to creep into the garden - not that it was hard to do, considering it wasn't that walled up and maybe this time, Tsuna 's luck was of a positive variant -_

 _"And what are YOU doing here?" A sharp voice interrupted the fluffy boy's inner musings, causing him to jump into the air like a startled rabbit._

 _"HIIII - !"_

 _Tsuna's yelp was practically deafening in it's volume when he somehow simultaneously turned around in the air, to look at the one who startled him._

 _It was a white-haired, tanned boy who was glaring at Tsuna with his unusual golden eyes._


	45. Chapter 45

_**Disclaimer:**_ Oh no, I don't own characters or songs. Wouldn't be much fun if I did…

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Life is apparently high as a kite, or at least on a constant caffeine rush. Sometimes I think I should have 48 hours just to stash everything in. And the heat. Let's not forget the heat. I don't know what happened in this chapter, but I will blame heat.

 _ **One Answer:**_ A guest asked me if there's fanmix list for this. Well, you can make it out of the songs I use at the beginning of the chapter, they are usually my inspiration to rev up and write.

And yes, Archer will make a comeback… just not in this chapter.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU-verse**_ on multiple scales, bonding over being friends with Trouble Magnet ™ and of course, Xanxus being evil little brat. ( _When_ isn't he?)

* * *

 _Tell everybody I'm on my way_

 _New friends and new places to see_

 _With blue skies ahead_

 _Yes I'm on my way_

 _And there's nowhere else that I'd rather be_

 _Tell everybody I'm on my way_

 _(I'm on my way)_

 _And I just can't wait to be there_

 _(Just can't wait to be there)_

 _With blue skies ahead_

 _Yes I'm on my way_

 _And nothing but good times to share_

(' _On My Way_ ' by Phil Collins ( _ **Brother Bear**_ ))

* * *

The Great Skull-sama had a problem.

Surprisingly, this problem was not Reborn-shaped. In fact, the 'problem' we are talking about was not even human. Not that its lack of humanity made it any less of a problem. In Skull's not so humble opinion, it made it all the more fearsome.

He stared at his little 'problem' while he tried to cautiously back away from it, desperately trying not to look like he was _fleeing_ from the damn thing. Honestly, it was kind of humiliating for the Immortal Skull-sama, the one even Death hated, to be terrified from one itty bitty _cloak_ of all things. Even if the cloak in question was, ahem, _sentient._

Skull didn't have problem with Leon, aka Reborn's Biggest Cheat. Noo, nope, no problem, even if the thing could change into a hammer weighing a ton in order for Reborn to play whack-a-mole with Skull. But Skull would admit that he would prefer 'playing' with Reborn than being on this damn cloak-masquerading thing's menu.

The cloth of the cloak wriggled into a surprisingly hungry grin, while two empty sockets expressed all the malice of a hungry lion on the prowl. And much to Skull's dread, the _thing_ slinked closer to him - much, much closer than he would've liked it to be.

And _yes_ , he would deny to the hell and heaven and back that he didn't squeak. It was a threatening _growl,_ dammit!

"G-Get away from the Great Skull-sama, you fabric-made menace!" He growled - squeaked, really- at the thing, his legs feeling like a jelly.

The terrifying cloth made an innocent face as if sayi _ng 'Who, me? It's just your imagination, human. You know you_ _ **love**_ _me, really.'  
_  
And oh my dear _god,_ were those _**fangs?!**_

Skull was a hair's breadth away from unceremoniously fainting, soiling his pants or both.

Any time now - !

The cloak lunged forward, and Skull emitted an ear-piercing screech as he danced out of the thing's reach, and it seemed that the luck was on his side today, because someone had yanked the Thing back by its 'tail', making it cringe before it whipped around and bristle at his savior.

Skull's savior was a little girl. She was an adorable angel, sent from Heaven to save the Great Skull-sama! She was dressed in a simple seafoam green dress that enhanced the white of her long hair trailing down her back and her eyes were like two precious rubies, filled with warmth and innocence.

The little cherub was pouting at the beast she got a hold of in her tiny hands, making the said 'beast' wrinkle it's folds in dismayed chagrin, like it wasn't about to eat Skull, but was just a harmless little cloth.

 _"Tribble!"_ The little cherub's heavenly voice was a balsam to Skull's ears. She was his little Goddess, surely. Skull's heart was just about floating in his chest with gratitude as he looked at the little Goddess adoringly. Skull would make her an altar and worship her and - "No! You don't know where he has been!" She pouted at the so-called _'Tribble',_ causing it to appear chastened - if that evil excuse of a cloak could ever _appear_ to be chastened.

Skull's previously floating little heart was broken into hundred pieces. "Hey! I resent that remark!" He pouted at his savior, stubbornly crossing his arms on his chest.

"You mean you _resemble_ it, you trash." Someone sneered behind him, causing Skull to screech as he jumped in the air with fright.

 _" Y-You!"_ Turning around, he stuttered as he pointed at the little devil who was glaring at him with a shaky finger. If the white-haired girl was all that was good and innocent in the world, then this boy was surely Satan's spawn, born solely to torment Skull with his continuous existence.

"Me what?" The brat sneered at him, causing Skull to cautiously step back from the little monster. "You are afraid of a cloak. _Honestly._ " The rude brat snorted at him, making Skull bristle in annoyance.

"T-The Great Skull-sama is not afraid of cloaks! This is a lie _! Lie,_ I tell you!" " Skull turned his soulful violet eyes to the little goddess. "You know that, don't you, Iri-chan?" He beseeched her, looking like a like puppy for all he was worth.

Iri giggled. "Of course I do, Skull-chan." She affectionately petted the cloak monster which made a disturbingly hungry leer at Skull when Iri didn't watch it, and when Iri looked at it again, it's 'facial' features were once again innocently adoring. Skull's jaw dropped with disbelief. That - that two-faced _dish rag!_ How _dare_ it try and act so innocent!

As if it could hear Skull's less than respectable thoughts, the cloak swiftly turned around and jumped, it's 'face' contorting into a soundless roar. Iri's eyes grew huge with surprise, as she didn't expect the usually docile cloak react so violently as it ripped itself out of her loosened hold.

Skull screeched as he tripped when trying to avoid it.

(Okay, Xanxus had a grudge against the violet-haired clown-like stuntman. Skull was fucking loud. And wimp. And coward. And did Xanxus mention that Skull was way too fucking _loud?_ ) He tripped him.)

"Tribble _! NO!"_

Xanxus' grin grew to unholy proportions. Honestly, he looked less like a child and more like a demon spawn at this moment. All he missed were horns and a forked tail, really.

"GAAAAH!"

" Give him _hell_ , trash!"

(When it came to ganging on Great Skull-sama, both Xanxus and Tribble had a terrible habit to make a ceasefire and become the best frenemies ever. in that instance, Tribble gleefully obeyed Xanxus' order like they were the holiest of gospel, much to Skull's terror and Iri's dismay.)

* * *

It was sheer dumb coincidence, the meeting of the three of them. Skull was doing what he did best - aka having a stunt show, and of course, both Iri and Xanxus just had to see it. Even if Iri didn't look like it, she was a holy terror about stunt works, and of course, when Xanxus had accidentally by mistake (It was an honest mistake! Really!) found out that prospect announcing the _Great Skull-Sama's Incredible, Death Defying Show_ , she just had to use her largest, shiniest, most begging puppy dog eyes in order to convince Xanxus to give in and accompany her to the show.

And _of_ -fucking- _course_ , much to Xanxus' dismay, Skull just had to take a shine to his _sorellina,_ hadn't he?

(He would never, _ever_ admit that Skull's stunts were ridiculously cool – not even under the pain of the most heinous torture.)

His little worries about this unusual friendship between the two of them temporarily alleviated his worries about Harry and his bunch - not that he had to worry about this crazy bunch of berserkers that were crowding his _turista,_ but _still!_

And Xanxus really thought that Harry had to be some kind of a saint, considering he hadn't exploded and kicked all of them out yet, what with their mothering and strangely gleaming eyes.

Because having them have those Flame-bright eyes and prowling around him like extremely starved lions around wounded, but still dangerous gazelle, wasn't disturbing. At. All.

He also had to babysit Squalo, which was another weird thing, considering Squalo was usually the one who bitched about Xanxus stupid little stunts and whatnot, even if he was neck deep in trouble alongside them, the two-faced jerk.

Tribble… Well, Tribble was collateral… _companion?_ Or something. The thing was practically slothful at the end of that little episode with Kirei having to do emergency Flame operation on _turista_ , and considering the … ahem, situation in the room, it also seemed to know it was dangerous for its life - or _un-life_ \- to remain here so it elected to come with the duo, much to Xanxus' glee and Iri's dismay, because even if Tribble was a fat lazy little blanket - turned out it could also change its size – it followed both of them faultlessly, usually in the shape of scarf around Iri's neck.

Lazy little sod didn't make any problems… the problems only began when they went to see the Flying Idiot, and for some reason, it ribbed both Xanxus' and Tribble's proverbial hackles something terrible.

Xanxus didn't know why exactly was Skull going on his nerves - maybe because he was loud, obnoxious, stupid _idiota_ who hogged his precious little _sorellina?_ – but he _did_ , and so both he and Tribble joined their forces to subdue the threat….

… not that they managed to do so, Iri's disappointed puppy dog eyes cowed both of them Every Damn Time.

And Xanxus honestly dreaded the day when Iri would have the _bright_ idea to introduce the besotted punk to his _turista…_

But - his mind flashed back to Harry's bloodthirsty lot - maybe that would be a quite an elegant solution to his little problem with the purple-haired, facial-jewelry-and-bikes obsessed menace….

Xanxus' fearsome scowl stretched itself into an amused smirk. Now, how to suggest Iri to introduce Skull to Harry and his menagerie of human-shaped monsters….

* * *

(Meanwhile, Shull shivered. Someone had trodden really firmly and deeply on his yet-not-existent grave and for some reason; he could swear it was _not_ Reborn…. _This_ time.)

* * *

Harry breathed. One breath in, another breath out. It was a sublime pleasure, just to feel hair leaving and entering his lungs. He felt ridiculously light, as if a heavy burden, he hadn't known he had been bearing on his shoulders, had been taken off of his being. He ought to be annoyed at his friends, because all three of them stuck to him closer than white to rice, and for some reason, their eyes were flashing with the colors of their Flames, and the room should have felt quite stuffy with all of the energies held within - Harry once again blessed his forethought to insist on raising up the goblin-commissioned wards - otherwise he was certain half of the Wizarding world, Magi and unscrupulous Flame Hunters would have pounded on their door.

His body still felt broken and like it had gone through the grinder, even if outwardly there was no such obvious sign, but his mind was clearer than it had been in a long time. Maybe even since forever.

He knew that he ought to confront reality soon - it was only so long he could languish within that beautiful cocoon of magic, Flames and mana, but it was so luxuriously pleasant and soft it also mellowed him out against his three friends practically babying him for some reason.

All three of them were unusually touchy lot with him, and this had been expounded on even more after this little – whatever it was.

Green eyes intermixed with wisps of orange and gold looked at the young priest that was sitting beside the window, head bent as he was reading some or other obscure text, forked brown furrowing and smoothing according to the information he had perceived.

Harry had finally persuaded Soichiro to go out and cook something for all of them – yes, Kirei and Kiritsugu too, because both of them were fairly inept in cuisine making, and Harry, who was usually the main cook, was absolutely forbidden to move out of the bed aside for toilet breaks and occasional shower. Wild black curls tickled the underside of his right hand, making him look down and smile at the snoozing Magus Killer. Kiritsugu looked innocent like this, sleeping as if he hadn't any care on the world, but Harry was, for some reason, reminded of a baby Nundu. Cute like button when small, however lethal even then.

Green eyes becoming serious, Harry absentmindedly brushed the wild mane under his hand, enjoying Flames licking against his skin sensing them practically purring in delight at his own acceptance.

What a fool he had been. He had said that he accepted Kiritsugu for what he was - _Magus Killer_ \- but truth was, he was far from accepting him. Or any of the three of them Knowing and experiencing something was as different as night from day. Looking at Kiritsugu, he remembered seeing his friends' memories of their lives, shard-snippets as they were. The tragedy of Alimago Island. Kirei's own doubts, his search for answers, fruitless as it was, how he had been pushed on the path of being an Executor at the tender age of ten. How Soichiro practically broke that fateful mission…

Harry relived those moments, when all four of them had been robbed of their memories, those golden days in the jungle, playing, arguing, bickering and just _being,_ young, fearless, with the world beneath them ready for their taking… even if it was only a fantasy for a little bit while.

' _Admiration is the furthest thing from understanding.'_ He remembered reading that little quote from one of Dudley's little picture books, carefully hidden from his parents. He had admired them for being so strong - but in admiring them, he had failed to see they were just as broken as he, himself, was.

For some unfathomable reason, they have chosen him to have in their lives. They could have had anyone - literally anyone - what with their talents, looks and abilities, but somehow, Harry was that lucky person all three of them held near and dear enough to leave their responsibilities behind to help him with his own problems.

Harry admired them…and now, when he understood just a little bit more of their story, he had been humbled at the enormity of their gift to him.

Pale lips curved up in bemusement. If admiration was further thing from understanding – well, Harry thought that understanding bore admiration anew - not that of the fluffy kind, but the grounded one, the one that recognized their faults and accepted the whole of them all the more readily. Silently, Harry swore to himself that he would be worthy of their trust, no matter what, unaware that his own golden-orange Flames blanketed the room again, prompting Kirei to look up from the book at him, the young priest staring at his frail friend with a wordless awe at Harry looking like a wingless angel at this moment, wreathed in his Flames, so fragile, precious, strong and _his._

* * *

Harsh pounded sounded on the door, jerking Kuzuki out of the half-daze he was in with its jarring sound.

The assassin hadn't known their recuperation would have lasted for so long - it had been a week already, and even if the effects of being lightheaded lifted out, he also felt as if he were burdened with an invisible, ugly burden chaining him directly to Hell Christians were so fond of.

Not that it mattered - what mattered, was that Harry was alright now and getting better.

"Let me in!" A hoarse voice commanded from the other side of the door, causing Kuzuki to stiffen. Nobody aside them and Xanxus' little friends should have known their location, and whoever's voice this was –

 _Well._ If nothing else, it was good Kuzuki was the vanguard – that way he could deal with the intruder without making too much of a fuss… Gray eyes slid to the kid curled on the couch with a big book on his skinny knees, seemingly completely immersed within the text.

' _Or not'._ Kuzuki wanted to face palm. While he was all for disposing the threat, it wouldn't do if he had … er, done the deed in front of the kid. No matter the kid's aspirations to be a Magus, Kuzuki was firmly against giving him the first-row show how such things go.

"Won't you go open the door?" The kind mumbled out, and for a moment, Kuzuki's eyes narrowed as he contemplated rescinding his little rule. There was only one person whose words was he willing to obey, and it wasn't this little he/she of a bookworm!

Iron will winning over his temporary jerk to strangle the brat, Kuzuki breathed in and out, getting Flames under control. It wouldn't do to spook out some innocent bystander… though Kuzuki very much doubted the person who insisted on being let in their little abode, was of such ilk.

Striding to the door, he prepared himself to play a harmless tourist once again.

One more check, just for the convenience's sake ( _whew, the flashes were hidden_ ), and Kuzuki opened the door.

"Yes?"

This was the only thing he managed to say before he was bumped aside - or the person attempted to bump him.

The person in question was reaching under his chin, clad in messy lavender shirt, dark gray trousers and black shoes, and they - he, really - had a walking stick Kuzuki immediately seized away as he blocked the man's path with his body.

The man's dull brown eyes were wide and panicked, brown hair mussed and he struggled against him like one of those giant centipedes –

Soichiro fought not to shudder.

"Where is he? Where is Harry?" the stranger's hoarse voice was frantic, and that was the thing that snapped Soichiro back to his task, the assassin grabbing pale throat and slamming its owner against the door with a dull, painful-sounding thud, his iron hold immediately choking the intruder.

Soulless dark grey eyes with the faintest flicks of blue and green within looked emotionlessly upon the man who began to choke from the lack of air, weakly clawing at his hand, but the assassin held firm.

Slender hands scrabbled up to weakly claw at his hold, and there, on the intruder's right wrist, was a familiar glint that shocked Soichiro into almost letting the man go, but instincts - or reflexes - made him clench his hand causing the man to emit a weak gurgle.

" _Soichiro!_ Let him go!" Harry's voice sounded like it was coming from a very far away, sharply kicking Soichiro out of his assassin mindset of _dangerdangermustdestroyINTRUDERENEMY_ \- trance he found himself in.

Blinking, Soichiro automatically released the hold, the lack of support against the door causing the man to fall down on the floor, the meaty _thud_ of the enemy's body strangely satisfying to his ears. Still, he bent down and grabbed the front of the man's shirt with his left hand, and harshly yanking him up, the right hand clenched with faint wisps of blue and green electricity dancing around, ready to squash him like a bug.

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?" Harry asked, exasperated. They were sitting in the living room, with Waver hunched as far away from the crazed stranger in lilac shirt as he could. Kuzuki wasn't exactly gentle with the man, carrying him into the room like one would a disobedient puppy before straight out dumping him onto the couch. And judging by the stern assassin's eyes – Xanxus told Waver if and when he saw their eyes go weird colors, then he oughta hightail the _fuck_ out of there - their newest guest was in a bad, bad place to be.

Kirei stood behind Harry like an overprotective priest-shaped shadow, and Kiritsugu leaned against the wall - a nonchalant pose at first, but with how tense the three of them were being, Waver would bet the assassin was inwardly practically begging for the intruder to make some kind of mistake to deal with him.

The stranger hunched into himself like a stubborn bug.

"I - I was concerned! " He snapped back defensively, his face pale with red streaks across his cheeks from the flush as he tried to get his breathing to normal. A harsh cough was being forced out of his throat, prompting Harry to move restlessly on the other couch, and only Kirei's restraining hand on his shoulder preserved him from going around the table and help him.

"Not that. _Why_ do you have Harry's bracelet?" Kuzuki was obviously unhappy if he interjected into the dialogue between them like this. Surprisingly, Kiritsugu didn't make a sound.

"Father Kotomine gave it to me." The stranger snapped back, peeved as he gingerly massaged his throat. "Satisfied now?" He glared at Kuzuki, who returned the glare in an equal measure.

" _Kirei…"_ Kuzuki's growl surprised all of them. Kirei tilted his head, as if mocking the older assassin, prompting Kuzuki's eyes to flash with more intense streaks of his Flames' colors.

Waver shrunk back even more.

It was like being glued on the path of hurricane waiting to mow you down. Not a good place to be, and Waver just had to have the poor luck of being a witness to this particular standoff.

"It's okay!" Harry hurriedly interjected, causing all the attention in the room shift back to his person. Green eyes glared at Kirei. "And thank you _oh_ so much for leaving me to explain that to the other two." He ended sarcastically.

Kirei's lips tilted into a thin smirk. "My pleasure." He purred out, heedless of Harry's dark gaze on his person.

"I'd bet. " Harry grumbled out, as he tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Long story short, Kirei gave away his own bracelet because he spotted Kariya feeling unwell, and apparently the bracelet eases the symptoms of his illness. It drove me bonkers when I received messages that one of you was sick for some reason -. "

"Ah. So _that's_ why you insisted on checking us that time…" Kuzuki nodded at him, enlightened. Relaxing a bit, Harry hummed as he leaned back into the couch. "Yeah. I found out the culprit at Tohsaka's wedding, but because no harm was done, I let it go – "

"No harm done?" This time, it was Kariya who interrupted Harry, his voice dangerously low, at the edge of a growl, almost, knuckles whitened as he clenched his hands around the walking stick, usually dull brown eyes ablaze with fury as he surged forward. _"No harm done!?_ A week ago, I felt like I was going through the grinder - and considering your ridiculous habit of making such thing look _unimportant_ , I _dread_ to think just what kind of pain you had been there and then!"

With each word spoken, each one louder than previous, Harry was forced to shrink back into the seat, his own green eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear at the completely pissed off Matou lord in front of him. In this moment, Matou Kariya was a roaring jaguar, alit with anger and Harry felt completely and utterly foolish at not thinking about what bracelet's secondary function when he agreed that Kariya could keep it.

And there were also glares behind his back, making him cringe even more as he suddenly remembered he completely forgot about his friends also going through the so-called meat-grinder with him.

' _Well, shit.'_

"Um. I am okay now?" He managed to squeak out, his eyes huge behind his glasses. "A-And I am sorry for making trouble for you?" He hastily added, tripping over the words like awkward colt, hoping against hope they would calm down.

Kariya's glare didn't let off, but at least the man leaned back into the couch, making Harry breath a quiet sigh of relief.

"You _ought_ to be sorry." Kariya grumbled out, huffing with annoyance. "At least give me way to contact you when you wade into trouble, you idiot!" He berated the green-eyed wizard harshly, studiously disregarding Harry's cheeks' flush of shame.

" _Wade?_ You're wrong here. He outright _jumps_ into it." Kiritsugu snarked from his own place against the wall. Harry turned betrayed eyes to at him, but Kiritsugu was unmoved at the puppy eyes Harry was using at the moment.

"Hey! I'm not one to seek trouble, it usually finds me!" Harry protested, scowling.

" _Su-ure."_ Kiritsugu drawled out, smirking.

Looking around at their smirking faces - yes, even Kariya and Waver, the little traitor - Harry hunched his shoulders.

How was he stuck with this lot of meanies again?

Oh _yeah._ Apparently they were his friends, and for the life of him, Harry didn't remember why he kept up with their craziness around.

' _Well. Because the world would be too boring otherwise, no?'_ His inner voice piped out as he looked with dismay how they bonded about his apparent inability to _not_ find trouble at every corner.

* * *

When he made his bid to find out what exactly had happened to Harry, Kariya didn't think he would be practically assassinated by one of Harry's guard dogs - of course Kuzuki was human, but he was guard dog all the same, almost strangled to death then and there, and _of course_ he would then bond with the self-same dog and his compatriots about Harry's little quirk of finding trouble wherever he went.

But with them having a mutual point of interest - i.e. keeping Harry safe and sound, Kariya was safe from prematurely croaking even if he suspected he would be getting gray hairs in short order very soon, courtesy of Harry's ragtag group.

And of course, Harry's little brat.

Waver Velvet, when he found out that Kariya was a Magus - Kariya just couldn't keep his tongue behind his teeth and not inquire about the book Waver was pouring over, and Waver, the little shit he was, scented Kariya's weakness like shark fresh blood in the water and pounced at in with his own might.

Thus, Kariya found himself an unofficial tutor to Harry's stray.

(Never mind he almost got a heart attack when he saw Einzbern's Homunculus cheerfully waltzing in as it pleased, along with its dark-haired counterpart.)

Kariya suddenly remembered Chinese's old proverb, _'May you live in interesting times.'_

Having a headache of monumental proportions and mind still abuzz with all those questions that little Velvet brat rattled at him, he wondered if it was too late to get out of the approaching madness.

Somehow, he didn't mind it as much as he probably should have.

A sharp nip into his side made him flinch as he tucked himself in the bed in the hotel he was staying at, a small but painful reminder of his eventual fate.

He already missed the chaos at Harry's little flat and unconsciously, as he drifted in a restless sleep, the edges of his mouth quirking into a small smile.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Fon's little moniker, the Eye of the Storm, wasn't without a reason. The man could dole out an untold amount of damage, if he wished so, be that with his martial arts or Flames, all the while being calm as a cucumber._

 _Apparently not calm enough if Kirei's little invitation to have a dinner with his Sky made his palms sweat like crazy._

 _It was_ ridiculous. _Fon ought to have been used to it, what with the sheer number of Skies trying - and failing - to make him attached to them, and he already had Luce. So what exactly was he afraid of?_

 _But - Fon snuck a glance at Kirei's calm profile - apparently not as much as he thought himself to be._

 _He had heard so many things about Kirei's Sky, and then, Kirei had vanished for nine days, before surfacing again - exhausted, with faint eyebags under his eyes, but his Flames - or as much as Fon could sense – were calm and even higher quality than before, which was almost unheard of, if one didn't constantly train and refine them._

 _And yet, Kirei managed the feat in what seemed to be an absurdly short amount of time, and exhibiting all the signs of a bonded Element to boot while he was at it._


	46. Chapter 46

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own these. Seriously.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Wrote this, Fon is hard to write, but hopefully I got him right.

 _ **Warnings:** __**AU**_ on multiple scales, Fon is being Fon, and hopefully some light on the assassins' abilities. Ouuuch.

* * *

 _Everybody's got a little outlaw in 'em_

 _Chrome piece hidin' in their blacked out denim_

 _Heartbeat beatin' to a rock 'n' roll rhythm, yeah_

 _Huh, everybody got little frontman swagger_

 _Stone cold rollin' like a young Mick Jagger_

 _A new tattoo that you can't keep hidden_

 _Everybody's got a little outlaw in 'em, yeah_

 _(Oh, ohh)_

 _('Outlaw In 'Em', by Waylon, Eurovision 2018)_

* * *

Fon's little moniker, _'Eye of the Storm'_ , wasn't without a reason. The man could dole out an untold amount of damage, if he wished so, be that with his martial arts or Flames, all the while being calm as a cucumber.

Apparently not calm enough if Kirei's little invitation to have a dinner with his Sky made his palms sweat like crazy.

It was _ridiculous._ Fon ought to have been used to it, what with the sheer number of Skies trying - _and failing_ \- to make him attached to them, and he already had Luce. So what exactly was he afraid of?

But - Fon snuck a glance at Kirei's calm profile - apparently not as much as he thought himself to be.

He had heard so many things about Kirei's Sky, and then, Kirei had vanished for nine days, before resurfacing at their spot again - exhausted, with faint eye bags under his eyes, but his Flames - or as much as Fon could sense them – were calm and even higher quality than before, which was almost unheard of, if one didn't constantly train and refine them.

And yet, Kirei managed the feat in what seemed to be an absurdly short amount of time, and exhibiting all the signs of a bonded Element to boot while he was at it.

He didn't want to admit, but young priest's absence from their regular spar spot - _and spars_ \- kind of galled at him; this little dragon was just too amusing not to tease again and again, even knowing it's fangs were being sharpened at a rate that was quite frankly, completely baffling to Fon.

Kirei's Storm Flames were… _interesting,_ especially when they reminded Fon of those of his cute little nephew back at Namimori. Even if it had been too early still, Akihiko exhibited all the signs of going Flame Active as soon as possible, and Fon could only thank Heavens the child was still too small to consciously Activate them. Because as cute has he was at this stage, Akihiko already managed to terrify all the servants in Hibari household into submission… _somehow._

Shaking his head in bemusement, Fon looked at the priest's back again. Kirei's little invitation came like thunderbolt out of the blue. Fon was all too aware of Kirei's possessiveness over his friend/Sky, which was amped up even more courtesy of Reborn and his poking and prodding about the issue.

If it weren't for the situation his Sky was in, Fon doubted Kirei would be willing to talk about his Sky as it were. And even if he had to talk about him, getting information from Kirei was about as hard than pulling teeth out of hungry tiger's mouth.

Suffice to say, Kirei was not in any way, shape or form, fond of Fon's more famous colleague. Actually, Kirei was wholly unimpressed with Renato's shtick of being The Greatest Hitman from the very beginning. It was one of the sources for Fon's amusement, however fleeting it was nowadays, what with all those strange missions and whatnot. Besides, even if Fon wouldn't have spoken it aloud (it wasn't _polite_ ), Renato deserved to be taken down several pegs or so. Keeping him humble and all that.

"So…" He spoke, causing the priest look at him while they were walking alongside river, Fon's hands clutching the small basket with an assortment of fruit and teas casually. "Why me?"

Kirei's dark brown, blank eyes - Fon had to fight back a shudder at being glanced by such lifeless eyes - blinked at him, before priest turned his head back ahead.

"Cabin fever." Two words that almost tripped Fon in his stride, but as always, his balance was too much up to the snuff to allow the Chinese martial artist to succumb to such an ungrateful display of surprise.)

Did Kirei mean that he only allowed Fon to come because his Sky was _bored?_

Fon's eyebrows lifted with amusement. If it had been anyone else, Fon would've thought them extremely arrogant for their confidence in their Sky. Fon may have not been on the level of Reborn's shamelessness considering the strength and purity of his Flames, but he was quietly proud of his power nonetheless. He had been Courted by Skies just as much as the whimsical Italian hitman, and while he rejected all of them that still didn't stop them from trying again and again in ( _vain_ ) hope to maybe snag the Strongest Storm for themselves.

"You could've taken Renato." He murmured, corners of his lips twitching into a small smile, full of mirth.

"I would, if I wanted to schedule a lesson in massacre this evening." was Kirei's dry reply, and this time, Fon chuckled.

"In fact, you just want to troll Renato." Fon concluded, his mirth rising at the situation he was in, even more so as the priest gifted him with his eternally flat stare.

"Exactly." Kirei deadpanned, causing Fon to break out in a chuckle.

Even if Fon perceived it as a joke, on the other hand, Kirei's words were a warning. Kirei wasn't the one to joke around with his words, and if Fon was right in his supposition this Sky of Kirei's snagged other two baby dragons, then… well.

Suppressing a smirk of excitement, the red-clad man hummed a small song under his breath. And it was just an honest coincidence it was a war song.

 _Really._

* * *

Nine days since his dramatic collapse, Harry felt whole lot better than before. It was as if someone had lifted heavy burden from his head and back - he found himself thinking faster and better than before, and his body seemed to be unbearably light. And joy of all joys, he had been allowed to _bathe!_ He didn't know just how much he had missed immersing himself in water, until he had been forced to make do with sponge baths and showers.

Sponge baths had been especially embarrassing deal for him because of course his friends just _had_ to insist on washing all of him, firmly ignoring his protests that he had two working hands he was _completely_ capable of using.

It was _mortifying_. Harry still feel his cheeks practically glow with embarrassment whenever he thought of those particular episodes, the fact of them all having the same equipment being notwithstanding. And much to his annoyance, no amount of pouting and glowering managed to get him out of this particular evening and morning ritual. And it was even worse what with Hedwig joining in, primly preening the mess that was his hair. It reminded Harry of him witnessing baby kittens being tended to by their mama. Resistance was futile.

The only saving grace - or maybe two - were than Xanxus and Archer hadn't been witnesses to this process as it were. His friends were ridiculously possessive of him in those moments, not allowing anyone to disturb them from them taking care of Harry's hygiene. Xanxus wasn't happy. And Archer still hadn't appeared, much to Harry's chagrin and the three assassins' satisfaction.

 _(There was one time Xanxus had tried to cook. It didn't end well for both ingredients and kitchen in question.)_

 _(Those nine days, the one who usually cooked was Kuzuki, and the rest of it was take-out, to counterbalance medicine dishes that were poured down Harry's gullet.)_

They still didn't let him go out, but instead compromised with Kirei agreeing to invite his sparring partner to their flat for Harry to talk with, just so Harry wouldn't do something stupid like trying to get out of the flat all by himself. Cabin fever _sucked._

It was already a late afternoon, fluffy clouds rolling overhead softly, relieved of their burden of rain. The air was fresh, letting in the scent of nearby flower garden, the sweet and tart scents tickling Harry's nose pleasantly.

He was sitting on ridiculously comfortable couch, with Tribble snuggling over his feet, watching Xanxus pout from what seemed to be the n-th time when he lost to Iri in chess.

Xanxus was adamant to not go out that day because his _turista_ was to meet someone. Xanxus's distrustful - _possessive_ \- mind had immediately conjured horrific scenarios what would happen to his _turista_ if he wasn't present.

So he decided to stay, but ten minutes into waiting, he had to battle with a terrifyingly strong enemy, called… boredom.

To alleviate it, he decided to teach Iri how to play chess, but apparently his cute _sorellina_ didn't need as much guidance as he perceived she would - in fact, this was their sixth time, and Xanxus was losing badly.

Thus, Xanxus was now scowling at Iri, who was giggling with amusement at her big brother loss while both Kirei and Kuzuki were quietly conversing about something in Japanese.

Harry would have been annoyed with his two friends hiding something from him, but right now, he was in too good of a mood to be peeved about such small things.

He wondered what kind of person would be Kirei's new friend. He knew Fon was apparently a martial artist who favored red color but anything else, Kirei was stubbornly mum on, much to the green-eyed wizard's frustration.

On the other side, this was the first time he would meet someone as _'just Harry',_ instead of some kind of celebrity. He was glad for it, but he couldn't help but be nervous.

Would Fon like him? Kirei more or less respected the man as his fellow martial artist, and Harry wanted to make a good impression on him.

* * *

Fon watched with interest as Kirei led him through the meanders of tiny alleys into the old part of town, the light dying the more they delved into the guts of the city. Strangely enough people didn't mind the priest passing them through - it was as if they were used to him already. Fon, though, roused some curiousity, considering he was of different nationality and clad in such bright red color, not to mention his braid. But the citizens didn't really stare at him - gave him longer than cursory glances, full of curiousity and distrust, yes, but not outright hostility.

At least not yet.

Finally, they entered the building, made out of stone that was looking more like something that had been, once upon a time, some kind of monastery, but had been repurposed into something else. Their steps echoed through the corridors ominously, their shadows lengthening into the darkness.

Finally, Kirei stopped in front of the nondescript doors. Dull brown eyes looked into kind black ones. At first, it seemed that Kirei wanted to tell him something, but the priest changed his mind - but one glance in those eyes, and Fon knew, if there would be even a hint that Fon intended to harm Harry in any way, shape or form - then there would be no force on Heaven or Earth for him to hide from his wrath.

The first thing Fon heard when Kirei silently opened the door, was laughter.

It was such an ordinary sound many people could overhear through the day. Two people were laughing, a teen and a child, while the third - a child too? - grumbled something about _sorellina_ being mean.

Fon more felt than saw Kirei to relax into the sound, like a cat enjoying its warm sunspot, snuggling into it shamelessly. The priest's shoulders loosened - Fon didn't even know just how tense Kirei had been when he had led him through the alleys - and his head tilted forward a little, with a small smile on his lips.

The door opened, revealing the scene of two children playing chess - the black-haired one pouting at the white-haired girl, both of them having red eyes, how curious - but Fon's attention was glued to the green eyed teen sitting on the couch.

At first glance, the youth wasn't anything special. Bespectacled, scruffy hair, maybe a little bit too thin for his own good and obviously still on the mend from whatever ailed him, but Fon's attention had been drawn to the eyes.

Those eyes were deep warm, impossible green color that arrested one's attention when one looked into them for longer time. They were also older and more tired and somehow deeper, reminding Fon of the ones of his _shifu_. The old man had similar eyes, reflecting both loss and wisdom, along with calm, while those green eyes still had that spark of mischievousness buried deep within, appearing here and there, as if daring the watcher to catch them.

Those eyes blinked, and then, their owner smiled, finally noticing the duo.

"Welcome back, Kirei. Did you have any trouble?" To Fon, the youth's voice was light and reminiscent to a spring breeze, unconsciously causing him to straighten his posture to look his best in front of his host.

Kirei shook his head. "No more than usual-" He replied, and for a tiny smidgeon of a moment, Fon could feel the priest almost soften in this welcoming presence in front of both of them.

Those green eyes then looked at him. "And you are Fon, I suppose." Harry tried to stand up, only for Kiritsugu to move and press him down on the couch via his hands on those fragile shoulders and a warning glare. Huffing with annoyance, Harry was forced to give Fon an apologetic nod. "As you see I am still under the house and movement arrest," He snarked "So I have to apologize for not greeting you properly." The young man flushed with annoyance and embarrassment.

"No need. Kirei had explained the circumstances to me, and I am doubly honored you've deigned to accept me into your domicile." Fon nodded at Harry, smiling at Harry's peeved glare at Kirei as he gave him a shallow bow. "Instead, I would ask you to excuse my intrusion and accept this humble gift and well-wishes for your recovery." He offered the basket, only for the black-haired child to jump up and rudely snatch it from his hands.

Fon had to force himself to be still and not discipline the rude ruffian. The basket was for Harry and Harry only! But before he could say anything, Harry had already intervened.

" _Xanxus!"_ Harry snapped at the unruly child, but the red-haired boy glared at him. "He may have given you a bomb!" The child snapped back, glowering at his caretaker.

Harry stared back. "I find that highly doubtful. He doesn't seem the sort that blows up the people." He snapped back.

The now-named Xanxus glared back mulishly. "You would be surprised." He grumbled back, but still refused to reliquinish the basket, only to yelp as a hard fist descended onto the top of his head.

"Ouch, _sei bastardo!_ Lemme go!" He snapped at Kiritsugu who indifferently added a noogie to mess the child's hair even more.

"Being careful is good, but you still need to work on beingI _tactful_." The man lectured him, black eyebrows arching at the squirming child. "For example, Fon didn't come here for business, but as a visitor."

Seething, Xanxus tried to swat the offending fist off of his head, only for Kiritsugu to shake his head almost sadly and continue on.

"It's customary that visitors bring something when they visit a person."

"Like a bomb." Xanxus still held his ground as he growled at Kiritsugu, red eyes stubborn.

"Like fruit. And tea." Kiritsugu was implacable as he gave the child the last bonk on his head, making him yowl before finally loosening his grip. "Which is _perfectly_ acceptable. What is _**not**_ acceptable is to be rude little _shit_ and intercept the gift before it finds its way to the recipient."

"Like you didn't want to do the same." Xanxus grumbled sullenly, glaring at the Magus Killer with all the dignity of an offended wet kitten, still clutching the little basket to himself for dear life. "Back me up here, Iri!" he growled at his little sister, who only giggled, her red eyes twinkling at him with merriment for his faux pas. Xanxus looked at her with his eyes full of betrayal. That was so not fair!

"Shall we go and try to find a bomb in here?" She offered, her sweet voice ringing across the room.

Harry covered his face with both his hands, thoroughly mortified.

Contrarily to him, Fon was extremely amused. This little kitten had claws and it was almost cute how it defended his human. Scratch the fact Xanxus was actually a child, because Fon could only see him as an adorable black fluff ball who was completely harmless while hissing at him his annoyance over his intrusion.

And Harry was positively _adorable_ with that mortified blush stretching over the bridge of his nose from one cheek to another.

* * *

Harry's Sky was _interesting,_ Fon supposed. Harry didn't try anything to draw him in – it was as if the teen didn't even _know_ how to do that, but on the other side, Fon was reminded - heavens know why - his years as a rebel, when just _had_ to have that tattoo of a dragon, despite his _shifu_ 's opinion on the matter - _'tattoos were for boastful braggarts only,'_ – and had snuck out for a month to have it done at some old master of the art. It had hurt like hell and his master's punishment, when he had seen just what Fon had done to his body was even more so - but despite his master's opinion of Fon's chosen tattoo of a dragon winding around his body like sinuous black and red serpent with gold accents - _how incredibly_ _ **tacky**_ \- he had been foolishly proud of his little achievement, like a little rebel he was.

(Much, much later, when he had attained Mastery himself, Fon had discovered that his own _shifu_ had a tattoo of a carp jumping out of the water on his back. _Talk_ about pot calling kettle black!)

And that was what Harry's own Flames were. Rebellious. Not conforming to the norm. Free. Wild. Not caring about drawing in the Elements they ought to have, they danced to their own rhythm - prim and proper on the outside, if just barely, but with hidden edge of something more… underneath, waiting to be unleashed when the time came.

Much to his surprise, Fon found himself almost aching to witness to such an event, because it was bound to be _glorious._

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _"So you are that Storm who repeatedly trounces the shitty priest."_

 _Fon stilled at the scratchy voice at his back._

 _The voice was casual enough, but what really got Fon's attention, was the talker's Flames._

 _Storm Flames. Of an unusual purity and strength, too. Maybe not as strong as Fon's own, but they were pure - even if their purity seemed to be a little… weird._

 _"And you are the one who trounced World's Greatest Hitman." He replied back, his voice calm, but body and mind ready if the man attacked. Not that he would._

 _The man scoffed. "He can keep the title for himself - it causes more hassle than it's worth." Dark eyes rolled in exasperation as the young man huffed, leaning at the wall carelessly, absentmindedly rummaging for a cigarette in his trouser pocket. Finally finding it, he fished out the lighter._

 _A snick later, the cigarette was lit and the Storm - Kiritsugu - Fon supposed - inhaled the bitter smoke into his lungs. "And what do you want to do instead?" Fon volleyed back._

 _A valid question._

 _"Protect my Sky." Kiritsugu exhaled the smoke, looking like some kind of a humanized dragon in the process. Fon fought not to wrinkle his nose at the sour scent but his eyes were still firmly on the Magus Killer._

 _This Storm was dangerous. Anyone who had the means and guts to destroy three Famiglias in one night so utterly like Kiritsugu had done, was not one to be trifled with._

 _But there was something wrong with the picture. Frowning slightly, Fon allowed himself to feel better. He wasn't as good as an average Mist, or even Viper, out of all people, but he was skilled in reading Flames nonetheless, and Kiritsugu's were unusual enough to warrant his attention._

 _And - there it was._

 _Just behind Storm Flames, as if they were some kind of a smokescreen – there were –_

 _Cloud Flames._

 _Fon couldn't help but pale and take a step back._

 _Dear Gods, a **Cloud.**_

 _Not only a Storm, but a Cloud, too._

 _That was a **Polarized** Element at its finest. It was almost horrifying in its simplicity. Storm fed Cloud, and Cloud, in turn, fed Storm Flames. A hurricane at its finest, completely unstoppable, shredding everything and anything on its way._

 _And there was Kirei - Sun Flames and if Fon read him right, Mist Flames mixed in. Also Polarized. Activation and Construction,_ holy hell _. If - no, not if, **when** \- Kirei finally reached equilibrium between the two, the priest would be an absolute beast to deal with._

 _Lightning and Rain seemed paltry in comparison, but both of them mixed together may as well be an impenetrable fortress with terrifying offensive ability if needed be. Despite him being Storm, Fon really, really didn't want to be on the wrong side of_ that.

 _That was why the three were so weird. Fon reached the enlightenment the rudest way possible, and really, his premonition of the trio being baby dragons was all too apt metaphor for their abilities._

 _He couldn't help but pity Renato extremely sincerely. Harry was indeed a great Sky - not many people were as humble and down to earth and funny and pleasant company to be around - but cross the invisible line and his Elements would_ annihilate _you. Fon didn't know how Harry convinced the three of them to be his Elements, but the green eyed youth was extremely lucky person and his Guardians even more so for snagging such a good Sky for themselves._

 _Briefly, Fon pondered whether or not to warn Renato of the impending doom if he continued to sniffle around for that particular sky. After a moment, he shook his head, a vindictive smirk hanging on his lips._

 _Reborn really adored the mysteries, and Fon was good enough of a person to leave this one for him to discover. And if his discovery would be a little bit painful, well, all lesson have to_ stick _in some way, don't they?_


	47. Chapter 47

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own them.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Tired to bones. I am manning the post myself these days, so this is up and running literally the last moment available.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, and there are first cracks slowly showing in the whole shebang. And a certain someone is _NOT_ happy.

* * *

 _All the colors, upon leaving, all will turn to grey_

 _All the colors, upon leaving, all will turn to grey_

 _(All grey) all the colors (all grey) upon leaving_

 _(All grey) all will turn to grey_

 _(All grey) all the colors (all grey) upon leaving_

 _(All grey) all will turn to grey, grey_

 _Twisting me_

( _'This Celluloid Dream'_ by AFI)

* * *

When Kirei had first came up with the idea of introducing Fon to Harry, Kuzuki Soichiro was not a happy camper. Oh, of course he has multitude of reasons not to be - Harry had barely came out of the latest mess he found himself in, thus he ought to rest and not go anywhere - it was hard enough seeing Harry pout every damn time when it came to bathing. And yes, contrarily to anything Harry may have said, the green-eyed teen was pouting a storm, no ifs, ands or buts about it. Kiritsugu learned to carefully avert his eyes in that case, while Kirei chose to be a shameless sod that enjoyed Harry's misery at its fullest.

Soichiro tried to weather it the best he could. He was an _assassin,_ for fuck's sake, no mere little pout ought to make him feel like he just murdered a basketful of kittens. He kind of understood Harry's problem, but at the same time, he really didn't want to understand it either. Taking care of Harry was a gift, a _privilege,_ and all three - or four, if counting Xanxus along - decided to take advantage of Harry's little weakness.

(The three assassins mysteriously got along when it came to diverting little red-eyed brat away from Harry… as long as they were doing it out of Harry's sight. Out of sight, out of mind, as some would say…)

He could kind of _tolerate_ the latest upstart - Kariya something, because the man was truly concerned for Harry, even if his closeness with Harry rubbed Soichiro's instincts wrong, but he could ignore it as long as he could.

 _(The man wasn't dangerous. At least, not_ _ **yet.**_ _)_

But Kariya could only do so much, considering he had been besieged by Waver and his endless questions about something called Clock Tower.

Kirei's idea, introducing Harry to Fon, was good in some aspects, but Soichiro didn't relish watching yet another person falling prey to Harry's unintentional charm. Of course, Kiritsugu was convinced that was all the fault of Harry being a Sky - and a strong one at that, but Soichiro felt that even if Harry didn't have his Flames or Sky, he would've been drawn to him all the same.

What Soichiro didn't expect was that Kirei had led to their little abode the very _Eye of the Storm_ himself. He barely held back not to curse at the foolish priest - even if he hadn't known Fon by his name, his title was very well known among the assassins and serious martial arts practitioners, if only because the man himself knew 108 different kinds of martial arts altogether.

Fon was Danger with capital D, and even if Soichiro had mastered _hebi_ style of martial arts, he knew only so well he would've had very small percentage of success if Fon truly decided attack.

Only his implacable poker face and long-ingrained reflex to desist prevented him from making a complete fool out of himself.

It helped that the man came with obviously peaceful intentions, if the basket stuffed with teas and fruits was of any indication. Each item carefully selected and placed into their place within the basket, it was more of a piece of an art than a gift.

And to find him amiably chat with Harry about _tea_ of all things… it boggled Soichiro's mind. He ought to be already used to things happening around Harry not to go their usual course.

But to see Harry's face brighten with delight when he entered the room, Soichiro couldn't help but feel smug at seeing that tiny flicker of disappointment in Fon's eyes. And when Harry introduced him, beaming with happiness and dare Soichiro say, _pride_ , the gray-eyed assassin couldn't help but puff out a little bit, enjoying the strange warmth in his chest at Harry's obvious, if oblivious snubbing of his esteemed guest in favor of Soichiro.

Fon may have been the Strongest Storm, as Kiritsugu had told them, but Soichiro had something their crimson clad, overly famous guest didn't - and that was a _Sky._

He was content in watching Fon interacting with Harry - it was a little bit amusing how Fon shamelessly tried to get the bits and bobs of information out of Harry and his green-eyed friend returning the proverbial fire with innocent enthusiasm, not even trying to impress the world-famous martial artist the slightest.

Considering how nervous Harry was about meeting Fon before, it was kind of hilarious just how fast the two of them had clicked together - and over _tea,_ of all things. Soichiro found out he didn't mind as much as he probably ought to have to Harry's newest companion.

Still… if the braid-wearing man tried to come after Harry with the slightest of ill intents, Soichiro swore he would use his strange Flames to lay him down in the most painful way possible, Fon being the Strongest Storm or not.

* * *

"So you are that Storm who repeatedly trounces the shitty priest."

Fon stilled at the scratchy voice at his back.

The voice was casual enough, but what really got Fon's attention, was the talker's Flames.

 _Storm Flames_. Of an unusual purity and strength, too. Maybe not as strong as Fon's own, but they were pure - even if their purity seemed to be a little… _weird._

"And you are the one who trounced World's Greatest Hitman." He replied back, his voice calm, but body and mind ready if the man attacked. _Not that he would._

The man scoffed. "He can keep the title for himself - it causes more hassle than it's worth." Dark eyes rolled in exasperation as the young man huffed, leaning at the wall carelessly, absentmindedly rummaging for a cigarette in his trouser pocket. Finally finding it, he fished out the lighter.

A _snick_ later, the cigarette was lit and the Storm - Kiritsugu - Fon supposed - inhaled the bitter smoke into his lungs. "And what do you want to do instead?" Fon volleyed back.

A valid question.

"Protect my Sky." Kiritsugu exhaled the smoke, looking like some kind of a humanized dragon in the process. Fon fought not to wrinkle his nose at the sour scent but his eyes were still firmly on the Magus Killer.

This Storm was dangerous. Anyone who had the means and guts to destroy three _famiglias_ in one night so utterly like Kiritsugu had done was not one to be trifled with.

But there was something wrong with the picture. Frowning slightly, Fon allowed himself to feel better. He wasn't as good as an average Mist, or even Viper, out of all people, but he was skilled in reading Flames nonetheless, and Kiritsugu's were unusual enough to warrant his attention.

And - there it was.

Just behind Storm Flames, as if they were some kind of a smokescreen – there were –

 _Cloud Flames._

Fon couldn't help but pale and take a step back.

Dear Gods, a _**Cloud.**_

Not only a Storm, but a Cloud, too.

That was a _**Polarized Element**_ at its finest. It was almost horrifying in its simplicity. Storm fed Cloud, and Cloud, in turn, fed Storm Flames. A hurricane at its finest, completely unstoppable, shredding everything and anything on its way.

And there was Kirei - Sun Flames and if Fon read him right, Mist Flames mixed in. Also Polarized. Activation and Construction, _holy hell_. If - no, not if, _when_ \- Kirei finally reached equilibrium between the two, the priest would be an absolute beast to deal with.

Lightning and Rain seemed paltry in comparison, but both of them mixed together may as well be an impenetrable fortress with terrifying offensive ability if needed be. Despite him being Storm, Fon really, really didn't want to be on the wrong side of that.

 _That was why the three of them were so weird_. Fon reached the enlightenment the rudest way possible, and really, his premonition of the trio being baby dragons was all too apt metaphor for their abilities.

He couldn't help but pity Renato extremely sincerely. Harry was indeed a great Sky - not many people were as humble and down to earth and funny and pleasant company to be around - but cross the invisible line and his Elements would annihilate you. Fon didn't know how Harry convinced the three of them to be his Elements, but the green eyed youth was extremely lucky person and his Guardians even more so for snagging such a good Sky for themselves.

Briefly, Fon pondered whether or not to warn Renato of the impending doom if he continued to sniffle around for that particular sky. After a moment, he shook his head, a vindictive smirk hanging on his lips.

Reborn really adored the mysteries, and Fon was good enough of a person to leave this one for him to discover. And if his discovery would be a little bit painful, well, all lesson have to stick in some way, don't they?

(The baby Storm was amusing at this stage, but living with those four, Fon knew the black-haired child's potential would be something to look out for. This scruffy little kitten may have had baby teeth still, but with some proper care and instruction they could be be sharpened into something worthy of greatest predators alive.)

* * *

Bemused, Fon returned back to their residence slowly, his thoughts circling back to this mysterious Sky and his Guardians.

They were impossibility at its finest. Fon wondered just why Man in Iron Hat didn't recruit them instead of Fon and his compatriots.

Harry's Flames were pure and untainted and something within Fon was practically purring the entire time he had been in that room chatting with Harry, their Flames playfully snapping and chasing each other around, Harry's own ones purely playful, with no intention to even try and beckon Fon's own into his Sky, while Kuzuki's were bemusedly staying put, but ready at any given moment to hit in a blaze of lightning fury if Fon tried anything untoward to his Sky.

 _(Not that he would.)_

The assassin - and _yes_ , Fon _knew_ the gray-eyed man was an assassin, reminded Fon of an immovable, ancient mountain what with how controlled his actions were. Quiet. Unassuming. Fon held back a shiver when he remembered that this man could very well be - no he was the culprit behind the massacre of Leone and Mari's _famiglias_ in their own strongholds. Kuzuki was a goddamn _ghost,_ and while Fon was sure he could and would hold his own against him - Kirei was the best out of three of them, martial arts-wise - he doubted anyone else would be lucky enough to escape the silent man's ire, if they got on his wrong side.

All three of them were so, so very _young._ This was what surprised Fon the most. None of them reached their twenties yet, and they were already so good at their jobs it was almost scary. It was a fucking _wonder_ the Mafia hadn't poached them earlier, considering their affinities.

Fon paused, dark eyebrows scrunching in confusion as he pondered this new facet of information.

All three of them had decent grasp on Flames. And to top of it all they were Dual Flames, which was not that rare, however them being _**Polarized**_ Elements as they were, ought to have all the Famiglias practically salivating into scramble to get them into their pockets.

And they had made waves only now, what with their retaliation against Freccia and the Seven.

But none of them made a movement to join any of the stronger _Famigilias_ Fon knew of, seemingly content to be left alone in their own little corner cuddling their Sky.

Which made them either confident in their abilities to the point of stupidity or they had some other plan Fon couldn't get the heads or tails of.

Frowning, Fon stopped in front of the doors of the Strongest Seven's temporary residence with Lady Luce.

If it was the latter, then _what,_ exactly, was their plan?

* * *

" _Where were you?"_

Lal's sharp voice cut through the fog of confusion the Chinese martial artist found himself in rudely.

Fon blinked as he lifted his eyes from rice with vegetables and steamed fish to the irate military woman glaring at him over the table, her own hands clenching the tableware to the point of her knuckles being white with fury.

"Um, Lal – " Skull tried to mitigate the disaster in making but a sharp glance from those seething blue eyes made his jaw snap shut faster than one could say 'Death.' Self-preservation and all that.

"Visiting an acquaintance." Fon's reply was short and to the point. For some reason, he found himself unwilling to divulge he had visited another Sky.

"And that makes you unable to tell us where you had gone, _how?"_ Lal bit out, still dissatisfied over his disappearance.

Fon's dark eyes flickered across the table. Reborn was relaxed as ever and apparently enjoying the chaos about to unfold, his gun casually pointed at the lackey, as he dubbed the violet-haired, loudmouthed menace at his left.

Viper was calmly sipping their strawberry milk while Verde was mumbling something under his breath as he was wildly scribbling into his notebook – no doubt something about some experiment.

Luce was eyeing all of them, her eyes wide with concern and about to speak, but Fon was faster.

"It was a private matter. Surely we aren't required to divulge those?" He replied back calmly, holding the agitation down as best as he could.

Lal Mirch irritated the braid-wearing martial artist something fierce. The woman was loud, brash and annoyed the heck out of Fon with her holier-than-thou attitude. Fon understood that she was one of the best, if not the best in her profession, but that didn't add any iota to her likeability. Her being a Rain, one would expected her to be calm and smooth - only to be confronted with loud, in-you-face Amazon with foul mouth and control problem.

Fon tried to understand. Really, he did. Lal Mirch was a soldier and they did things differently. But her trying to boss over him in such an abrasive manner quickly raised his proverbial hackles.

Storms, after all, were born out of Clouds, and if there was anything Fon really hated, were being shackled in any way, shape or form against his own will.

"No, you are not." Luce interjected the usually natural smile on her lips stiff with awkwardness of the situation all of them were in. She threw a scolding look to Lal, who pressed her lips into a disapproving frown but resumed eating her steak and salad.

Fon loooked at Luce. The woman was clad in her usual white ensemble with mushroom –shaped hat on her head, her slightly bulging stomach the only indication she was pregnant. Luce. She was gentle - too gentle for this harsh world she was in.

She was a leader of Giglio Nero _Famiglia,_ which was a rarity in the underworld, a woman leading a crime syndicate. Her family obviously adored her, and even Fon somehow managed to fall under her charms - but ever since this afternoon, he began to wonder if that was all there was to it.

Luce's Flames were like her - gently, wispy things that were surprisingly strong and pure, when Luce deigned to use them - which was not very often. Not that she needed them - Luce's sincere empathy more often than not worked in her favor.

Fon felt those wispy, gentle Flames reach for his own, already tainted with the Flames of her Guardians, and stilled. Usually, this didn't bother him; he had accepted it as a part of the parcel, so to speak, but today, for some reason, this was _wrong._

They were too gentle and too smooth. They sidled over to his own in a practiced dance of _understandingbeckoningrelax_ _ **home**_ , which in any other circumstances, ought to have relaxed Fon's own, like they used to.

But they… _lacked_ something. Fon fought not to frown as he concentrated on eating one more mouthful, half-heartedly listening to Skull's semi-quiet whining about Reborn being meanie for probably millionth time today.

His mind travelled back to that time when he was chatting and laughing with Kirei's Sky, talking about everything and anything under heaven, with this little Sky listening to his tales about his homeland and some more amusing adventures when he had traveled around the world to master some of the more obscure martial arts.

How those green eyes shone with mirth and longing when he listened to Fon's tales, and twinkled when Harry teased him back, when he asked if no enemy had thought to use Fon's braid to trip him up or something similar.

 _(Fon had outright barked out a laugh at that. Honestly, so many times people thought his braid would be a disdvantage to Fon in a fight…. If he had gotten a single yen to all those occasions, he would've been a billionaire today, seriously.)_

Those playful Flames were direct, to the point of being almost rude, but never beckoning, never taking, just being here and playing with his own, so free and innocent Fon couldn't help but relax in their presence at long last.

Carefully, Fon placed his chopsticks at the edge of the bowl when the thought struck him.

When was the last time he had behaved so carefreely, without any thought of consequences? To just be in the moment, without carefully treading that single, razor-thin and diamond-sharp red line?

His eyes looked from one person - _comrade,_ he had to remind himself - to another, taking in their expressions. Lal was understandably pissed off one. Verde was in his own world, Viper busied themselves with yet another of their smoothies, Reborn was taunting Skull as usual - more like subtly bashing him in, if one took in account Skull's quiet whines, and there was Luce.

Luce, who already had her Guardians, but as the Strongest Sky, acquiesced to take the Strongest Seven into her fold.

Luce, with her smooth gentle smile, quiet understanding and warm laugh, but incredibly sad eyes.

Luce, who tried her best, but right now, to Fon, her efforts suddenly lacked something essential - something Fon had gotten a taste of when he talked with Harry, but for the life of him, couldn't name.

Suddenly, all that carefully prepared food tasted like ash in his mouth.

Abruptly, he stood up, allowing the chair to screech at his ascent prompting others to snap their gazes at him.

"Fon?" One word. Luce's concerned eyes bore at him, but Fon studiously avoided to look at her, as hurt and confused as she was.

Ruthlessly, he squashed the feeling of guilt and resentment in his heart.

"I'm not hungry." Even to his own ears, his words seemed snappish, despite him trying to be polite as it was his habit.

Not waiting for Lal to screech at him some more, this time about his manners - not that she _would,_ Lal was clever enough to notice she had somehow crossed Fon's invisible line - Fon turned around and strode out of the room, a brewing storm as it were. When he was outside the dining room and with the door safely closed behind him, he took off running to the garden Luce had prepared for him.

The garden, that ever since his arrival in the mansion became his favorite spot to rest and relax, suddenly felt like a glorified cage closing in on him.

Closing his eyes, Fon slumped down below his favorite sakura tree as he tried to calm his thundering heart and at the same time resisted the urge to blast the garden sky high. This was the first time in a long while his temper really got a hold to him and it both surprised and unsettled him to a great degree.

 _What the fuck was wrong with him?_

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi's face hardened. "Don't _ever_ mention that disgrace." With those five words sharply spoken, the _sushi_ chef sharply turned around and stompled back into the kitchen, leaving behind confused and scared group of teenagers.


	48. Chapter 48

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters; they just take their time off in my stories.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I am posting this one ahead of time because I am busy and want to go ahead with Real Life obligations. Someone asked about Hedwig, so this is Hedwig's chapter. But honestly, both Hedwig and Alucard won't be the focus of the story, so they may not be mentioned too much throughout it. Next time, the story on Harry's side will be unravelled a bit more.

 _ **Warnings:** **AU** _ on multiple scales, Hedwig's POV and the Mayhem Is Coming.

* * *

 _Time to step outside, time to step outside  
Time to step out, time to step out  
Time to step outside, time to step outside  
Time to step outside you_

 _House on fire, leave it all behind you  
Dark as night, let the lightning guide you_

 _Step outside, time to step outside, time to step outside  
Time to step outside you - _

("Step Out" by José González)

* * *

Hedwig was a dignified white owl, the best of the best, and that was the truth widely acknowledged. In Hogwarts, she was an undisputed leader of the roost - or would have been if she had any inclination to be. Instead, she left that onerous duty to the Malfoy's owl - Alexander, as the Great Horned owl was named - hadn't been such a fluff for brains like his hair-helmet wearing owner.

Hedwig's troubles were few and far between, as far as her life went, ever since coming into the ownership of her green-eyed little Harry-chick. Aside from those dreadful months at Hogwarts, her life was hale and hearty, indeed. Though she wished her Harry-chick would fatten up some, but she was relieved that Fluffy Smoky One (Kiritsugu) and his two brethren, along with Harry-chick's chick (Xanxus) were taking the case of that particular issue.

But Hedwig's until now calm and trouble-free life had came to an abrupt end via the arrival of the one particular owl she didn't think she would see ever again.

Her big brother was an oddity in her family, and not only because he was the only one colored pitch black. While Hedwig had gotten into the respectable business of being Mail Carrier, her whacked-out brother had been deemed to be too unsafe to be handled by humans because of his little quirk - or better yet, love - of tasting human blood.

He was the dark, dirty secret of Hedwig's family, and Hedwig herself hoped he remained as such, but alas, fate - or misfortune - had decided otherwise.

The bloodthirsty black owl had been gifted to them, much to the black owl's delight and Hedwig's horror. Now they were posed with the problem of naming it.

After many trials and tribulations - i.e. Hedwig trying ( _and succeeding_ ) to sabotage the process, the black owl finally had a name.

All it took was a moment of Hedwig's distraction via her stupid older brother, and _kaboom,_ the fluffy idiot of a vampire pretender had a name.

It had begun oh so innocently...with the fluffy idiot in question trying - _and failing_ \- using puppy dog eyes on Hedwig.

* * *

 _{But dear little sister, why would you be so cruel as to deny me my Name?}_ Soulful golden eyes bore into the same colored, stone-cold ones. The black owl ruffled its feathers elegantly - and was there a glint of steel among the feathers?

Hedwig squinted. _{Because, you annoying fluff for brain, in this family there is room for only one owl. And in case if it escaped your notice, this owl is_ _ **me**_ _.}_ She grumbled out, absentmindedly whacking Kiritsugu/Fluffy Smoky One on his head when he once again tried to suggest a name for the feathery idiot that was her elder brother. Mean looking he may be, but her elder brother didn't make an iota of sense, not even since they were tiny owlets. While she was training to be the best owl she could be, he imagined himself to be some kind of a vampire, got bad friends - imagine, hanging out with _bats_ \- literally, in his case! - and trying - and thank Athena, _failing_ \- to get his beak sharpened into fangs. Really, who had _ever_ seen an owl having a pair of _fangs_ instead of a nice, respectable, sharp beak? Truly, Hedwig didn't understand him. Maybe it was because his egg had fallen from their nest too many times?

"He is a bloodthirsty little beast." She absentmindedly listened to the Fluffy Smoky One, nodding slightly in assent. Truly, her brother was a complete glutton for blood. So much that he -

"So he will be called Alucard."

Hedwig blinked out of her memories, horrifying as they were. Then, Harry-chick's chick nodded. And then Snakey nodded. She tilted her head. Why were they agreeing again?

Her golden eyes widened with horror when the now-named Alucard made for an ungentlemanly - or un-owl-y whoop of delight, so different from his usual facade of disdain and bloodthirst.

 _{Yay! I got a name, I got a na-me! Suck it up, Heddy!}_ He warbled out happily, giving her an owl-version raspberry as he wiggled his body quite indecently on the head of Harry's chick, making Harry's chick yelp with indignation at having to bear the indignity that was the now-named Alucard's victory dance.

 _{I'm not a Heddy - Wha - You got a_ _ **NAME!?**_ _}_ She screeched out in horror, her golden eyes bulged out in horrified panic.

 _'Dear Athena, anything but_ _ **that,**_ _please!'_

But the magics were already in works, firmly entrenching his new Name to her brother and thus newly-named Alucard was now the full member of their little family.

 _{You keep what you kill - er, Name, so. Game. Set. Match. Eat your heart out, Hedwig.}_ Alucard preened at her smugly.

Defeated, Hedwig fluffed out her feathers irritably, as she proceeded to click a beak, offended at the outcome of this - this _travesty._ Yes, travesty was a right choice of a word for the naming disaster that had just occurred.

Her Harry-chick seemed equally as unimpressed, as he addressed the Fluffy Smoky One.

"You _do_ know that Alucard is just Dracula spelled backwards?"

"So? It still fits the fucker." Harry-chick's chick spoke out, making her Harry-chick berate him for his language.

Hedwig closed her eyes, resigned to live out her life with her idiotic brother and his antics. _{At least my name came from a saint. Yours is just as unimaginative as you are,}_ she grumbled to herself sullenly.

Didn't help that she had to suffer his ecstatic warbling later on the night because she had the misfortune of being present when Xanxus demanded to watch an original Dracula movie.

Alucard was an insufferable little prick for _days_ afterward.

* * *

Hedwig was almost relieved when Alucard more or less adopted that white-haired not-human chick - Iri, her name was - as his own. It was one less problem for her to deal with, even if the silent wars between Xanxus-chick and Alucard were funny.

Xanxus wasn't happy camper that someone dared to intrude on his turf aka Irisviel. There had been many glare wars to contend with along with very subtle sabotage going on; because both Xanxus and Alucard were determined that Iri could belong only to one person - or, in Alucard's case, a vampire.

(Never mind Alucard was a bloody _owl_ who bemoaned not having fangs for some reason.)

Even if Hedwig and Alucard hadn't roosted at Harry-chick's roost much - Hedwig took advantage of freedom as much as she could, and Alucard was still the primary Gringotts' mail carrier - a job he undertook seriously, even if he was now technically owned by Harry.

(Frankly, Alucard just _enjoyed_ terrorizing the letter recipients with his intimidation skills. He was bigger than an ordinary owl, and bloody _terrifying,_ when he wanted to be - but with Iri-chick the otherwise bloodthirsty owl was frankly gooey fluff ball of cuteness. Hedwig outright gagged _every time_ when she was watching him ingratiate to the red-eyed not-human child. _Seriously._ She shouldn't have been surprised that Alucard would discard all of his pride as an owl - for Athena's sake, when he was still a little owlet he announced to their parents that when he grew up, he would be a _vampire,_ of all things.)

But Hedwig's little trials didn't end here. Oh, no.

There was also that strange, shapeless menace trying to eat her for some reason. Of course, Alucard was an exception on the Thing's menu for some reason, but _Hedwig?_ She was not so lucky.

The terrible Thing in question was practically stalking her - when it wasn't terrorizing that purple upstart with Xanxus in tow. Alucard had been absent on one or another Post Business for Unfortunate Customers Forced to Deal With Alucard on top of whatever bad news Goblins deigned to message them, so this was one small mercy in a mess.

But otherwise? Hedwig had a bad, bad feeling she was apparently on the Thing's menu list for some reason.

Thankfully, Iri could distract the Thing - er, _Tribble,_ from realizing its dastardly plans quite effectively.

So at night, Hedwig had to sleep with one eye open, as to not get a heart attack from opening her eyes and seeing the Thing in front of her, dark maw open and about to eat her.

(Whoever said Tribble was just a harmless cloak was definitely delusional. Hedwig had _seen_ Thing, as she still called Tribble - mow down the couple of mice she had brought to enjoy later on.)

She tried to warn Harry-chick about the danger, but her Harry-chick was apparently too naive to heed it, ending being wrapped in that Thing's folds almost every single day. Hedwig had been forced to hover up and about in case Thing decided to change its menu preferences to her Harry-chick.

Harry-chick's friends were close to Hedwig's Harry-chick, so Hedwig's worries about Thing consuming her Harry-chick were baseless, but still, some caution every now and then wasn't amiss.

And let's not even mention Harry-chick's other … _acquaintances._ One of them reminded Hedwig - Athena knows why - of bag, filled with worms. Her claws itched to rend the man apart, if only to kill those filthy things inside. They were frankly _unnatural_ and they didn't have any business of doing anything close to her Harry-chick.

Fortunately, those abominations couldn't get out of their flesh-bag, ensconced within that strange human quite nicely. Hedwig ruffled her feathers, annoyed at herself for letting the man getting so close to her Harry-chick. While she could tolerate Harry-chick's suitors, however strange they were, this one wouldn't make any good chicks with her Harry-chick.

And then that Hairy Purple. Twitchy little thing, reminding Hedwig of an overexcited mouse, or worse, Pigwidgeon. Hedwig had to cringe at that little reminder. Pig was _way_ too over excited, always looking like he was on a permanent high for some reason. The white owl close her eyes, pondering the mystery. Maybe he ate some of those crazy mushrooms? She gave out a small bark as she looked at the night sky outside in contemplation. Hedwig whole-heartedly approved of the Thing's attempts to eat the Hairy Purple - even engineering some herself.

(What? Did they _really_ think banana peels and rotten mice found their purchase under Hairy Purple's feet and butt by mere accident? _Sheesh._ Amateurs.) What a shame the Hairy Purple had been lucky enough to be saved by Iri-chick.

But the latest one.. Hedwig blinked again.

 _Well._ If there was one being Hedwig would ( _reluctantly,_ mind you) approve of settling with her Harry-chick, then it was that Red Storm. This one was clad in red, like blood, and Hedwig's ruff feathers were delicately ruffled when she sensed him, like the oncoming storm, still contained but ready at any time and place to erupt and annihilate everything around of it.

He held back temper at the antics of the other members of the flock, most notably of Harry-chick's chick - Xanxus was strong (Not that Hairy Purple wasn't, but he was so spazzy Hedwig seriously wondered if Hairy Purple and Pig weren't out of the same clutch, never mind difference in their species.), but Red Storm had seen Xanxus for what he was - a milk-toothed cub - and as such, held back his claws. Not only that, but he was also playful and kind when talking to Harry-chick, even taking him seriously, which was another good point in the Red Storm's favor.

Apparently her Harry-chick thought the same, and consequently, Red Storm got along with Hedwig's Harry-chick like a house on fire, or like butter on bacon… yes, this was definitely a match, made in heaven.

And Hedwig would do all what was in her power to tie those two together for life and have them make many pretty little human chicks to cluck and coo over.

Hedwig's _Operation Matchmaker_ was a go, not that anyone knew about that - though for some reason Harry's trio of assassins and human fleshbag full of insects felt a foreboding skitter claw up their spines, Harry and Fon sneezed at the same time, even when they were apart and Thing - ahem, Tribble rejoiced because it got an unexpected ally in his efforts to devour Pretty Purple.

(Xanxus and Iri remained innocently oblivious of the approaching mayhem. Waver, however, got stomach pains for some unknown reason.)

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Red eyes stared into green ones._

" _Your Majesty …"_

 _The golden-haired man didn't pay any attention to the babblings of the gnat that managed to Summon him._

 _Instead, his attention was being held by that person's green eyes._

 _Looking at him, unafraid of his might, yet holding in an intelligence that deemed their owner worthy of his notice._

 _In any other situation, the Golden King of Uruk would have been annoyed that someone dared to stare at him like some sort of a dumb dog, uncaring of his titles and power. He had allowed only one person to look at him freely, and he was his only and one equal, who was able to go toe to toe against him._

 _This person was not the same, yet at the time, it was._

 _This was not his beloved friend, but he had the same potential, if not power._

 _This world, for all of its advancements and luxury was boring, these people were boring too, but this one…_

 _The corners of his lips twitched in a small amused smirk._

Hm. _Well. Maybe this whole world wouldn't be going straight to the dogs yet._

 _Maybe there was some hope this time that the entire farce would prove..._ entertaining.


	49. Chapter 49

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characthers, as much as they made my head for their temporary residence. I really ought to charge them a rent or something…

 _ **Shout Out:**_ This chapter is for _**harsej the pink dog**_ and the wonderful art they gifted to me. Thank you, this was the main inspiration for this chapter, because Fon suddenly decided to star rather prominently in the middle of it. Uh oh… I feel sorry for Reborn now…

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, Fon thinks a little too much, methinks, and Reborn is apparently not as good as he thinks himself to be.

* * *

 _Ever wonder 'bout what he's doing  
How it's all turned to lies  
Sometimes I think that it's better,  
To never ask why_

 _Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame  
Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned  
But just because it burns, doesn't mean you're gonna die  
You gotta get up and try, and try, and try  
Gotta get up and try, and try, and try  
You gotta get up and try, and try, and try_

( _'Try'_ by Pink)

* * *

Next few days, the Gesso mansion was cloaked in a shroud of tension. Even Skull, who was as suicidal as one could be, avoided Fon completely, even if the Eye of the Storm was his only and one deterrent from Reborn's tort - ahem, _bonding_ experience. But Fon being _tetchy_ , there was no other explanation for his state of being - was a new and dangerous experience.

"What in the _blazes_ has gotten into you?" Reborn's voice cracked through the air with the precision of a tungsten-woven whip. Usually, Reborn wouldn't have of used that kind of a voice, especially not on a Fon out of all people, but the Chinese martial artist was being unreasonable ever since his latest jaunt outside to who-knew-where.

Reborn sincerely regretted that he hadn't followed Fon this one time, because this one time - and what happened before Fon came back, apparently changed Fon into a caged beast. Oh no, not that it was visible - Fon was perfect in masking his own responses, but there was something stilted, and where was one a smooth flow of conversation was now a stilted one, with subtle jagged edges, an iceberg on the verge of breaking and causing an irreparable damage.

Luce tried. Oh, how she _tried,_ what with making Fon's favorite food (Reborn swore he had gotten at least ten ulcers from how spicy the Mapo Tofu was, and the only solace was that the lackey had to eat his own portion too, because Reborn was feeling unexpectedly _generous_ that day), trying to draw him into conversation and their usual tea time. Fon humored her at first, even if Reborn got a feeling that it would be safer for Luce to dine with a starved tiger than her being in Fon's presence.

Fon's Flames, usually tightly reigned in and so, so complacent, allowing Luce's fragile ones to latch onto them like a tiny limpet on a dragon's scales (Reborn didn't want to admit it, but Fon was an absolute beast, both in quality and quantity of his Flames, second only to Reborn's own - ), were now bristling, sharp spines of a hedgehog, ready, willing and able to prickle any unwanted advance onto his person.

Fon himself was not aware of it, as far as Reborn could tell. Otherwise, he would have reverted back into his gentlemanly persona (probably?) and do… what? Even Reborn wasn't sure of Fon' s responses at the rate this mess was going. And it was a mess, making Reborn himself itch to resolve it, by hook or by crook.

Dark eyes glanced at him. Fon was sitting at the window, and if Reborn hadn't know better, he would've thought he was sulking. The Chinese man was clad in his usual red outfit, his braid impeccable and body seemingly relaxed as if he was only basking in the afternoon sun, like some kind of humanoid cat. Or dragon, in Fon's case. Fon's eyes flickered back to window, looking through it, at the cloudless sky.

"What do you mean?" The man muttered his voice a low murmur. Reborn forced himself to still. This was Fon's territory, and even as tempted as he was to take a pound (or two) of flesh out of Fon for hurting Luce, he had to be a clear-headed one for once.

"You are hurting Luce." His voice was calm, even, as if he were talking about weather. He suppressed his ire when Fon continued to stare at the sky outside, seemingly not listening to him. "I don't know what happened to you, but ever since you've came back, you have changed.

"Did I?" Fon's faint inquiry hung in the air between the two of them, a tiny nuclear bomb made of sound, ready to go off at any moment.

Reborn opened his mouth, but Fon turned to him, locking their gazes. "Do you ever think what our lives would have been, if we didn't get those invitations?" Fon's question was soft as a summer breeze, but it chilled Reborn for some reason down to his very bones.

The question threw Reborn in a loop. He would have expected anything but that _non sequitor_ Fon dropped on him. His own eyes narrowed as he glared back at Fon, half-irked he had been caught so flat-footed. Reborn, the Greatest Hitman didn't do mistakes.

"No, I can't say I do." He heard himself replying with a curt voice. It was a simple cause and effect, really. Reborn always strived to be the best, and it was only a question of time when he would be acknowledged as such. Besides, his profession didn't really leave any place for the kind of what-ifs Fon was currently playing around with. "Do you?"

He expected Fon's shake of head. "I don't." Fon's reply was also expected, and Reborn would have sneered at the man if he hadn't known the man was completely truthful. "But I do wonder if I we are doing the right thing, having Luce as a Sky."

Reborn couldn't be more stunned if one would have thrown a flash bomb at him that very moment. Even before he knew, he had his trusty beretta in his hand, aiming it at Fon's heart in a scant second, his knuckles white with the effort to _not_ kill the fucker right then and there.

"I expected you to be more reasonable, Fon." Reborn's voice, even to his own ears, was surprisingly calm while he tried to reign in the fury at frankly blasphemous thought Fon had just uttered. Sure, Luce wasn't perfect, but she was their Sky and they owed her because they were hers –

Fon, however, didn't budge a muscle. Not that he needed to - for all of Reborn's posturing as the Strongest Sun, Fon's Storm Flames trumped his own Sun ones so badly it was not even funny. Disintegration was a bitch to deal with and Fon was a fucking _grandmaster_ in using it to his advantage. Sometimes, Reborn envied the martial artist his seemingly easy command of his Flames. It may have be seen as crude, considering Fon's over fondness of Storm Dragons, but he had been witness to this man Disintegrating a glass of water, without destroying the liquid that had been held within it in a matter of seconds. This wasn't something anyone could have done on a whim.

"And I expected to have a Sky of my own, but we don't get what we wish for, do we?" Fon sniped back, languidly stretching, muscles uncoiling from their positions, ready to spring into attack if needed be.

Reborn chose to remain silent. This was a point of discontent for all of _I Prescelti Sette_ , knowing that the Sky in question already had her Guardians, and they were thrown at her because she was the Strongest Sky. They had met each other because of that single virtue, and while Reborn didn't mind as much - years had made him jaded in that regard, just like his other … co-workers in this little farce, he honestly gave Luce a chance.

(He ignored just how desperate may that move have made him seem in the eyes of the world.)

Fon was the same as him. Or at least, he used to be. Now, this Fon in front of Reborn's eyes, was different, an alien, an unwelcome factor Reborn's brain scrambled to comprehend to solve in time ( - before Luce was harmed by Fon's indifference any further - )

He forced himself to stash the gun back at its resting place.

"Is that it? Because you don't have a Sky of your own?" He sneered at Fon, his voice a mix of condescension and indifference.

Fon's twitch was involuntary, and even if the martial artist reined it in as soon as it appeared, as minuscule as it was, Reborn already snapped on it like starved dog to bone.

"Luce is a good Sky." Reborn continued ruthlessly.

"Is she really?" Fon countered back, his eyes steady as he stared back at Reborn. He tilted his head, as if inviting an attack that would undoubtedly follow. "I do get it that she took us in, but that's just it - _she took us in_. We are here by circumstances and not because we wished to be. Luce is a good, strong Sky, but she isn't _our_ Sky."

' _She isn't my Sky',_ Reborn heard in Fon's undertone, and for some reason, it hurt more than he had expected it to.

"It didn't matter to you before." Reborn knew he was being petty now, but Fon's actions could be regarded as an outright cruelty. Even if Fon didn't see it as such, his absence and avoidance hurt Luce to a great degree, considering that he was, aside Reborn, her staunchest supporter, until everything changed.

"It didn't." Fon's calm agreement infuriated Reborn even further. "But it does now."

And that was the crux of the matter.

Reborn took a deep breath ( _don'tkillthe fuckerjust_ _ **yet**_ _-_ ) and asked the crucial question.

"Why?"

Fon's eyes so steady through all of their conversation shone with a hint of vulnerability and confusion.

"That's just it. I don't know it either."

* * *

Having survived Reborn's grilling about his strange behavior, Fon elected to sneak out for the sake of peace. Reborn hadn't been satisfied with his answer, and they have come so close to blows it wasn't even funny. But by some miracle, Reborn managed to keep himself in check, though Fon clearly saw the urge to outright _murde_ r Fon in those fathomless black eyes, but for some reason, Reborn held back.

The weather was just like his mood, Fon supposed - cloudy with a chance of storms. The air was stuffy enough that he expected the storm to hit in an hour, hour and a half at most, but even with the heat pervading everything and making his _cheongsam_ cling to his body, Fon didn't care.

It was almost a relief to get out of that house (- _gilded cage_ -, something within him sneered derisively, but Fon determinedly pushed the notion down the deep well where he usually stuffed unpleasant thoughts to mull through later. If ever.), walking aimlessly through those streets, until he finally came to the park.

Choosing a tree, he slumped against it, almost boneless with relief that he didn't have to keep his Flames from Disintegrating just about everything and everyone in his surroundings.

He closed his eyes, listening to the occasional twitter and cheep of birds above him. Slowly, oh so slowly, he relaxed, even if his senses were still on full alert ( _youneverknowwhoisouttogetyou_ ), equally as slowly untethering his Flames from their cold cage, letting them drift out and about - invisible, of course - as they pleased. This wasn't a standard practice, but Fon also used his Flames as a secondary warning system - his senses alone were first one, trained to the razor edge's sharpness.

Involuntarily, his mind flashed to the memory when he was chatting with Harry, hos Harry's Sky flames frolicked with his own, playful and unafraid, not beckoning or restraining in any kind –

Fon felt the edges of his mouth lift up in a fond smile. Skies like Harry were a rarity - Fon couldn't remember when he had seen one like him - he had heard rumors about Vongola _dons_ being just as magnanimous, but he hadn't verified It by himself, so it was more of a word of the mouth than anything else. At first, he had thought that Luce would be _it,_ that his long search had finally ended, but compared to Harry, Luce was a tiny white star against Harry's blazing supernova.

Luce had experience in vying her own Sky Flames against the ones of the other Elements, Harry on the other side… Fon couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle. Harry's Sky Flames were a playfully rampaging lion cub, inviting one to play and demanding nothing else aside that, while still being ready at a moment's notice to shield and support those he considered his own. Fon's heart just about lurched out of his chest when he remembered those undertones in those innocently pure, but still horrifically _wounded_ Flames – how on _Earth_ did Harry even manage to _bond_ with his three Guardians with those practically _mauled-out_ Flames –

 _No_. This was not the right question. His own Guardians - Kirei, Kuzuki and Emiya - all of them had similar wounds in their own Flames. As if something had been ripped out of them when they were young and unaware of the world's horrors, making them jaded, their Flames jagged edges dipped in poison and fire- ready, willing and able to cut and shatter and shred anything and anybody in their way, including themselves. It was a heaven's mercy that Harry's own Flames, despite similar injuries, didn't have any such inclination.

Fon felt his fury rise, but he reined it in with a practiced hand. If he ever found the culprits who caused this travesty - because it was nothing more and nothing less than this - Fon wouldn't grant them a swift death. Oh no, he would first break their bones into tiny fragments, and then, he would disintegrate them bit by bit, molecule by molecule, while not giving them reprieve of being free of pain. The Chinese martial artist felt a wave of malicious glee arise within his heart. Knowing Chinese medicine had its own perks when one knew it as well as Fon did.

Even if Harry probably wouldn't have approved of it. Comically, Fon's shoulders slumped in despair, before he straightened out with determination. There was no need that Harry would ever have to know about it, and getting Harry's Guardians on Fon's side about this little project ought to be a doozy, considering the three of them were overprotective bastards when it came to their Sky.

Not that Fon begrudged them about it –

Opening his eyes, his own looked into those green ones of the person he was thinking about.

" _Yi!"_ Fon would deny it to the day he died, but he emitted a startled yelp as he tried to hurriedly back away from –

Fon's back hit the bark of the tree behind him. Harry grinned at him mischievously as he flopped down on the grass. "Hello to you too, Fon." He snarked back. Fon felt his cheeks warm up and he knew, without a doubt, that he was blushing.

"Don't scare me like that!" Fon scolded as he recovered, but still felt his cheeks to burn with embarrassment at his ungentlemanly behavior. He was confronted with Harry's even more unrepentant grin, and sighing in exasperation, he lowered himself on the ground to sit down beside the mischievous Sky.

Wait. Fon frowned a bit. Usually, his Flames and senses would have alerted him to anyone who would approach him. How, then, did Harry manage to not even bypass his defenses, but startle him so hard his composure temporarily went out of the window?

"I was watching you." Harry admitted shamelessly, still grinning with his success of startling Fon.

"Watching me?" Fon parroted dumbly. On one side, he was flattered Harry watched him, but on the other, he was spooked that he didn't notice it. Inwardly, Fon frowned. Had he become too complacent?

Harry nodded guilelessly. "Yeah. I finally managed to beg Soichiro to let me out." He snarked, exasperatedly rolling his eyes heavenward at his friend's overprotectiveness. Fon couldn't help but chuckle with amusement, his previous embarrassment pushed aside. "So congratulations are in order, then." He nodded to Harry, who scoffed, but nodded back at the same.

"I swear, if they could, they would wrap me in a bubble wrap forever. Or something." The wizard complained good-naturedly, and as if it was a second nature, Fon's Flames protectively curled around the Sky ones in an approximation of a mother cat grooming it's kitten. Harry twitched a little, and his own Flames gave a token protest, just like a kitten would, but much to Fon's half-surprise and half-satisfaction, they allowed his own ones to twine and curl around them in a cloak of protectiveness. Not smothering - _never_ smothering, because both Harry and his Flames didn't need that, but just being there.

"Or something. " Fon agreed, smiling helplessly at Harry's over-exaggerated pout. "So who do you have along with you this time?"

Harry scrunched his nose - and Fon shouldn't have thought of this tiny action as _adorable,_ really - and glared at Fon. "I could've just as easily gave them a slip, you know?" He huffed out, grumbling a bit as he crossed his arms on his chest.

Nodding, Fon chose to indulge him. "Of course. But then you would really have to suffer being wrapped in bubble wrap forever." He teased back, chuckling at Harry's mock – outraged squawk.

Watching Harry, Fon noted Harry was clothed in loose jeans trousers with equally loose T-shirt, no doubt snagged from one of his Guardians - probably Kirei, considering the black T-shirt in question hung off of Harry's torso like some kind of an oversized flag. His feet were clad in trainers, thankfully in his own size. Coupled with his glasses, Harry looked the image of an adorkable dork, even if he was still too pale for Fon's peace of mind.

"No bubble wrap for me. _Ever."_ Harry declared with his nose in the air, and Fon would have almost believed him.

"But how did you manage to sneak up on me?" That was the question that practically burned on Fon's tongue. As a martial artist and one with a mastery over his Flames, Fon would be a laughingstock if someone else aside Harry managed to replicate that particular feat.

Green eyes looked into his own dark ones, sparkling with a mischief. "That's for me to know and for you to never find out." Harry smirked at him, and Fon ought to be annoyed but his interest rose at the challenge this little green eyed Sky provided him so saucily.

Maybe that also meant Harry wasn't adverse in spending more time in Fon's company. Well, if that was so, Fon definitely wouldn't be against it.

Harry's hand casually snagged the tip of Fon's braid, casually playing with it as they continued to chat about their day as he leaned against Fon in the shade of the tree, the red-clad martial artist allowing the unconscious request for cuddle with bemusement.

Cuddly Sky… well, that was a new one. Not that Fon minded it much. In fact, he didn't mind it at all.

Something silky looking, but invisible at the moment wiggled softly around Harry's neck, unconsciously nuzzling at the soft skin there.

* * *

Dark eyes watched the couple relaxing under the tree.

He had never saw Fon so relaxed like the martial artist was just now. But what intrigued the watcher more, was Fon's companion.

On a glance, it was a boy in his teen years, his attire typical to people of his age, though that oversized T-shirt jarred the image a little. He could think up different scenarios about this T-shirt - there was no doubt that it belonged to someone older than the boy in question, a male at that, maybe his brother or friend. And glasses, let's not forget the glasses.

The bespectacled teenager could've posed as a typical Italian, if it weren't for the paleness of his skin, his black hair was too wild to be ever intentionally sexy and he looked more like a colt than someone who would be capable of seducing Eye of the Storm with his wiles.

Fon was smiling, looking at that strange boy with a soft light in his eyes, something he never did with Luce. He never thought Fon to be a touchy-feely person, and there this boy was, having the end of Fon's braid in one of his hands, his slender fingers casually playing with the silky tail at the end of it.

And not only had that, but Fon outright cuddled around the boy. _Cuddled!_ He never would have thought he would see that bizarre sight - Fon was an image of manners and propriety, after all, and seeing one of the Strongest outright cuddling a person was just _wrong._

This one wasn't Fon's acquaintance. Definitely not. Lover was out of question, too.

That only remained only one possibility, as impossible and unbelievable it was.

This boy was _Fon's Sky._

So shocked he was in his observation that the one thing that jarred him out of his unexpected observation, was the unmistakable muzzle of a gun discreetly pressed against his lower back as a much loathed voice whispered into his ear, his captor's breath damp against his ear.

"Being called _'The Greatest'_ sure made you dumb. Go ahead, make my day. I would _love_ to send you six feet under… and please, while you are at it, _do_ avert your dirty eyes from _my_ Sky."

' _Maledizione.'_ He had been caught with his proverbial trousers down, and he didn't have anyone else blame than himself.

Reborn grimaced.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

" _Care for a cup of tea?" Harry looked at the white-haired, dark eyed man in front of him._

 _The man looked like an ordinary shopkeeper, aside from white hair and dark eyes, what with his gentle smile and mustard yellow apron on his person to protect his clothes. The steel tag glinting on the right side of his chest proclaimed him to be called Kawahira in elegant, yet bold letters._

" _Would love to have a cup or two... Man in the Iron Hat." His voice, while already cold, dropped to the level of sub-zero temperatures, causing the shopkeeper to wince._

 _Kawahira had known that Harry wasn't happy with him, but apparently he had underestimated just how_ unhappy _the green-eyed Sky with his misdeeds._


	50. Chapter 50

_**Disclaimer:**_ I disclaim the characters and song.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Dragged this one by its tail out of its hiding hole, kicking and screaming. It likes to snooze right up until the deadlines, too. _**twitterbug,**_ found the cover and listened to it. It was lovely, so thank you for suggestion, have it on my playlist. If you have any other suggestions, they will be very welcome! Also, in this Reborn is being called Renato as most of the chapter is in his POV.

 _ **Warnings**_ : _**AU**_ on multiple scales, appearance of brats and Harry's really innocent about some things. _**Not beta-read**_ , so there may be some mistakes still lurking up and about, despite checking.

 _ **Dictionary:**_ Who would've thought _Firefly_ could be an amazing source of Chinese language. I apologize in advance if the words are not correctly translated, though.

 _ **Wo de tian a**_ _\- Heavens above/oh my god_

 _ **hundan**_ _\- bastard_

 _ **Tianxiaode**_ _\- Heaven knows_

 _ **Omae o korosu, teme**_ _– I will kill you, bastard.(Japanese)_

* * *

 _You sit there in your heartache  
Waiting on some beautiful boy to  
To save you from your old ways  
You play forgiveness  
Watch it now, here he comes_

 _He doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
But he talks like a gentlemen  
Like you imagined when you were young  
(Talks like a gentlemen, like you imagined)  
When you were young_

 _I said he doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
He doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
But more than you'll ever know_

( _"When You Were Young",_ by _The Killers_ )

* * *

Harry was happily enjoying his time with Fon, as unexpected as their meeting was - Chinese martial artist was a good conversationalist and Harry had been amusedly listening to one of Fon's tales about his travels when he felt a flare of... annoyance? The flare was so close it skittered up Harry's spine, buzzing at his senses unpleasantly. Unconsciously, Harry felt his back stiffen as he instinctually looked to the side where that feeling originated from.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Fon's concerned inquiry was ignored as Harry glared at the seemingly innocent tree in the close distance from him. Fon was amused at first - Harry looked like annoyed little kitten, what with his glare, but his amusement flipped into annoyance that was mixed with a healthy dose of ire when he saw Harry's Storm drag out the one and only World's Greatest Hitman, who was held by the scruff of his jacket as if he were an unruly puppy, with Kiritsugu leading him to Fon and Harry.

The entire scene would've been amusing if not for Kiritsugu gun discreetly poking at the small of Renato's back.

"And what are _you_ doing here?" Despite Fon's amiable smile his voice was practically sub-zero it its tone expressing his annoyance with his wayward colleague.

"Found him following you two." Kiritsugu jabbed the muzzle of his colt into Renato's lower back forcefully, making the man grunt and reluctantly sit on the grass.

"You followed me, too." Harry was not happy with his Storm Guardian either. Dark eyes flickered to green. "You were going stir crazy in Kirei's hovel, can't blame you for that. But I'll be damned to _Yama_ if I will let you be harmed on my watch ever again." Kiritsugu shot back at Harry.

Harry glared back at Kiritsugu, his cheeks flushing with mortification, even if there was a spark of surprised pleasure in his eyes, the sight of it prickling Fon's heart like kitten's claws.

"Are you saying you _let_ me sneak out and then kept tabs on me?" Harry was decidedly annoyed right not, never mind his happiness about his friend's concern about him.

Kiritsugu arched his eyebrow. "Are you saying you _snuck out?"_ He countered to Harry's question evenly, and Fon was amused when he heard almost inaudible growl from the green-eyed Sky aimed at his dark-eyed Storm Guardian.

 _Busted._

Fon watched, entertained as Harry's flush progressed to a dark blush on his cheeks as he once again inarticulately growled at the menace that masqueraded as his friend.

"Are you three forgetting I am here?" Kiritsugu's prey grumbled out, peeved at their inattention to his self.

"Yes." Kiritsugu snapped back at him in stereo with Fon. Harry blinked, taken aback. He hadn't expected the two's bad reaction to the fedora wearing man. Actually, it was a bit of a comical sight, Kiritsugu in all of his scruffy glory manhandling the fashionably-clothed young man - Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been told Curly Sideburns was a model - as if Curly Sideburns was some good-for-nothing ruffian.

* * *

Renato Sinclair was not amused. He had been outright ignored by this baby Sky, and this didn't sit well with him, especially when the self-same Sky in question didn't give him all of his attention, like Renato had been used to getting it from all the other Skies he had encountered. Instead, the teen in question - and yes, this baby Sky was still a _teenager_ – began to bicker with his Storm Guardian, as if Renato weren't any danger to him.

(Not that Renato _was_ , but it was a principle of things.)

But he _did_ feel a flicker of amusement at Kiritsugu's long-suffering glare at his unruly Sky's stubbornness.

His amusement turned sour the longer he watched their interaction - even if the duo snapped at each other, the two of them were secure in the strength of their bond to the extent of completely ignoring both Fon and Reborn - the bond that he, the World's Greatest Hitman didn't have. And that was completely, utterly galling.

Glancing at Fon from the underneath edge of his fedora, Renato caught a flicker of jealously on his colleague's face. Surprisingly, this didn't alleviate his discontent much, so he forced himself - not that it was hard to do, because he itched to find out just what kind of a Sky - and more importantly, person - was Fon's newest and latest obsession.

" _Chaos._ I am Renato Sinclair, little one. May I have the honor of knowing your name?" _'Smooth as ever',_ Renato mentally congratulated himself, only to feel a hard jab in the lower back yet again. It almost hurt, too.

(Who was he kidding _again?_ Jabs made by a gun muzzle fucking _hurt_ , but Renato bore with it with a smirk plastered on his face. Annoying his captor was always a good thing in his book. )

The Sky he had addressed narrowed those strange green eyes at Renato, obviously unimpressed with his grandiose introduction.

"Hello, mister stalker. I can't say it's nice to see you when I had to witness your incredibly dubious hobby in action." Harry snapped back, glaring, his hand unconsciously clutching at the tip of Fon's braid as if it were some kind of a bridle or leash leading to the beast on the other end.

Likewise, the Chinese martial artist gifted Renato with a cold smile that would chill any and all members of Chinese Triads to their very _marrow_ if they had the chance to witness it bloom on his face like it did right now.

"I would apologize for him, as it's likely I am the one targeted in this instance, but considering your Guardian's reaction to him I think apology may not be necessary. " Renato hid a wince. That was Fon's polite-speak for _'I-don't-give-a-damn.'_ He had witnessed that only one time when he worked with Fon- when some upstart group tried to make the red-clad man in question to bow to them. Suffice to say, it didn't end well for the group in question. Fon had razed them to the ground so badly their very names were struck off the official Triads' history into oblivion.

(This was the _reason_ Fon had become the so–called boogeyman and enforcer among the Triads. Nobody wanted to get on the man's bad side after _that_.)

Now the self-same tone was aimed at Renato.

"You got that right." Kiritsugu's voice was cold and clipped, making him seem older than he really was. "The bastard had been sniffling around after my Sky ever since I handed him his ass on a silver platter."

"Not a golden one?" Harry quipped back, amused, and Fon had to smother a chuckle.

"Not worth it." Oh, _buurn._ Renato so wished to trash that pretentious ass, but they were a) in a public place and b) he didn't want to make a bad impression on Emiya's Sky.

But judging by Sky's unimpressed face, the damage had already been done. Renato mentally gritted his teeth. He just had to grit and bear with it –

"The World's Greatest Hitman?" Renato gave a tiny jerk at the Sky's soft inquiry, while giving him one of his most charming smirks to date. "Yes, that's me." He purred out, reaching out with his Flames to begin the age-old dance of seducing his prey.

He blithely ignored Fon's stiffening face as his Sun Flames stretched and sinuously caressed the Sky ones trying to incite them-

-Only for his Flames to be smacked down with what felt to be a ten-ton hammer, stealing all the air from his lungs in process.

Reeling from the hit, Renato choked on his spit. His beloved fedora fell off his head as he jerked back.

"I don't know what are you trying to _do,_ but I don't like you." Green eyes, previously so unassuming, and dare Renato think _innocent,_ were blazing with fury as the small Sky snarled at him, those previously playful Flames spiking up like spires of an enraged hedgehog, ready, willing and able to skewer him at the smallest provocation.

"You must think me a blubbering _idiot_ who would slobber to get a slimmest chance with oh-so-magnificent you. " Wide-eyed with confusion and the beginnings of panic, Renato tried to defend himself, but he was stopped by Harry's hand in the air. "Well, _newsflash_ for you, you are not the hotshot you are thinking yourself to be. And don't bother trying to change my mind." The green eyed Sky snapped back at him.

Renato stared. Where did that tiny, fluffy Sky vanished off to? Usually, when he used that tactic, all the Skies practically ate out of his proverbial palm, falling over themselves to try and Court him the best way they could. But this green-eyed Sky not only rebuffed him, but outright _refused_ to give into Renato's charms and Flames.

Which was so rare it happened precisely _never_. Renato wasn't a _braggadocio_ and he did try to use that particular technique only as a last resort, considering it could be seen as a Courting, and maybe he had been too full of himself for some reason –

(It was not Renato who danced to the Sky's whims. They danced to the tune Renato played, oh so hopeful and grateful and such greedy little shits Renato was practically _sick_ \- )

"I – " Renato swallowed the saliva, feeling his throat dry as a dessert. He opened his mouth, only for the little Sky to shake his head at him with disgust.

"Save your apologies for someone who would _love_ to be fooled by them. As for me, don't bother me. I don't have time to deal with two-faced bastards like you." The little Sky spat out before he scrambled on his feet, releasing end of Fon's braid as he stood up, his Storm following suit like a silent human-shaped shadow.

He turned back to the equally stupefied Fon and smiled with chagrin, those still blazing green eyes softening with a hint of remorse.

"I am sorry you had to see that, Fon. I don't really have any reason for that unpleasant scene - " The little Sky furrowed his eyebrows, frustrated as he tried to put in words what he experienced, only for Fon giving him a small, understanding smile.

"I understand. I know what had transpired - here, Fon gave Renato the Look that promised nothing good and everything short of worst when they will be alone again - before he gazed back at the mortified little Sky again. "In fact, I am surprised you've managed to refuse him. Nobody had done that before."

Instead of being proud, the little Sky scowled. "Well, I am _not_ pleased to become the sole exception to this particular rule." He bit out, peeved, and Fon sensed there was a story behind it. But he didn't try to press; instead, he smiled at the little Sky, his expression even warmer than before.

"I don't mind, really." He insisted, raising his hand until he interlaced his fingers with the ones of the little Sky who blushed, his green eyes wide. "We will continue our talk at some other time, yes?"

"If you don't mind keeping your tail far away from my Sky, then yes." The Storm's voice was sardonic, making Fon chuckle and one cutely blushing little Sky hit him on the shoulder, which was shouldered before he was tugged into half-hug and led away, the previously imposing aura vanishing as if it hadn't ever been there to begin with, leaving behind one dazed Hitman and one fondly smiling martial artist.

Both of them looked after the pair until they lost themselves in a crowd before Fon turned back to Renato.

" _Wo de tian a,_ you are truly _hundan_." Fon's voice was mild, but his tone was razor sharp. "As the World's Greatest, I would've expected you would've known _basic_ etiquette when conversing with someone. But _no,_ instead of that, you tried to entice little one with Flames. _Tianxiaode,_ if it weren't for little Sky's resistance to your foolishness, you would be a _smear_ on the ground, us being among civilians or not. Utterly shameless, that you are." He stood up soundlessly; his sharp eyes glaring at the winded hitman ungainly sprawled over the grass disdainfully.

"Keep far away from little Sky. If I _ever_ catch even the faintest wind you tried _any_ of your parlor tricks, I will _kill_ you – you being my colleague notwithstanding." And Fon was deadly serious. He would do this, Renato recognized. Even when he was trying to seduce the little Sky, Fon's enraged Flames coiled around the bespectacled green eyed teen like possessive dragon, before Renato had been smacked down as if he were an annoying fly and not the strongest Sun Flame user of his generation.

"Had to try." The hitman's voice was hushed, as if he had been strangled a scant few moments before, his eyes sightless as he stared at the sky as if it held the answers to all of the questions currently crowding in his head.

Fon quirked his eyebrows. Okay. That was new. He had known Renato was an adrenaline junkie, but that was going too far even for him. "You had to try? Why?" He barely held back not to whack the idiot on his foolish head, propriety be damned.

"Had to try what kind of brat was strong enough to be your Sky."

This time, it was Fon's turn to pale with shock.

 _Impossible._

His legs, so steady even in the greatest danger, suddenly couldn't hold him up anymore.

Renato, that utter bastard, had the gall to smirk at him. "Congratulations. It appears you could be leashed in short order if you wanted to be, huh."

Fon had to sit down, his thoughts blazing through his head like hurricane as he tried to puzzle out this new picture in his mind. And to his ever-mounting horror, Fon found out that no matter how he tried to overturn the facts, his mind was stubbornly looping back to Renato's flippant words as if they were some kind of terrifying magnet made of cold hard facts.

Numbly, he watched Renato pick up his fedora and put it back on his head, Fon only saw Renato's lips curl up into a barely visible brittle smirk.

"Aren't you happy?"

* * *

Meanwhile, the cause for Fon's world turning upside down, was utterly furious.

"Harry?" Kiritsugu's inquiry of one word encapsulated so much more as he was striding alongside his seething green-eyed friend.

Usually Harry didn't have so short of a temper, but whatever the curly-side- burned ponce had done seemed to set off Harry's temper on a shortest trigger possible. Kiritsugu had a tentative theory what the idiot in question tried to do, but he wanted to confirm it fully before he committed to sending an Origin Bullet to his crotch.

(No other place to cause a complete and utter _agony,_ really.)

Harry's shoulders were tense, his whole body coiled as a spring ready to be unleashed.

"If I ever see the fucker, he's _dead."_ The green-eyed wizard spat out, still seething with the memory of the bastard trying to ingratiate to him.

"Not that I would mind. In fact, I will say go ahead and I'll help you hide the body." Kiritsugu gave Harry one latest one-armed hug before he reluctantly relented, leaving Harry feeling bereft of his touch.

Harry barked out an amused laugh. "Don't mind if I take you up on your offer sometime." Kiritsugu noted that his words seemed to relax Harry a little. "So, how gory shall we plan his death to be?" He hummed, prompting Harry to send him half-shocked, half-amused look.

"Now you are just fishing for information." Harry accused Kiritsugu, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he tried to look put out with his friend.

Kiritsugu just gave him one of his crafty looks, like he used to when they were still kids.

"Right you are." The Magus Killer agreed shamelessly. "Is it working?"

Harry's bad mood diminished even further, He ought to be angry at Kiritsugu - after all, Kiritsugu was prying into his privacy, but instead, he felt a wave of affection and gratitude that someone truly cared for him. It was a strange feeling and to tell the truth, Harry was still trying to get used to it, even when he was living with all three of his friends, not counting the kids.

It was both interesting and awkward, especially with the three of them being older than Harry and the inevitable sharing of the bathroom. Harry had to silently admit if at least to himself - that he was kind of jealous of their physiques. He still looked like a scrawny, wiry stick, while the three of them had muscles and surely it was one of the mystery of universe why exactly hadn't hey been besieged by any of girls yet.

And of course, Kiritsugu's little confession. That little unexpected _tete-a-tete_ in Einzbern castle had been interrupted by alarm caused by Harry's kitty brat and Iri turning Jubstacheit into Tribble. The interruption had been a godsend, because Harry didn't know how to deal with that right then. And then, both of them kept to the unspoken agreement to let the sleeping lions lie, as it were. No need to stir that particular hornet's nest. Despite of that, harry noticed that Kiritsugu was a tad bit more affectionate, like back then, what with an one' armed hug that prevented Harry from exploding at Curly Sideburns – _Sinclair_ – even further.

For someone who was so easily riled by Kirei, Kiritsugu had quite a hold on his temper when needed to. Like with Curly Sideburns.

"Why didn't you interfere?" Harry's question was pure curiosity. Usually, Kiritsugu would have interfered even before Harry reacted, but in this instance, Kiritsugu held himself back, Harry frowned.

Kiritsugu's face darkened. "Did he do anything to you?" He asked, his voice sharp.

Harry frowned. "You mean, you didn't taste it?" he retorted, confused. The air around them seemed to thicken, never mind the heat radiating from practically everywhere. Even if they were in the park walking underneath the trees, the heat was still unbearable.

"It was like honey and blood, almost cloying, like slime. " Harry tried to explain, but going by Kiritsugu's confused face, he wasn't doing a great job out of it. "Like too much sweets with iron mixed in."

"No-o?" Kiritsugu drawled out. "I knew he was doing _something_ , but not _what."_ He shook his head, frustrated. "When did you notice that?" Both of them walked onward and Kiritsugu was glad for heat for once as not many people were in the park, so the two of them trudged through the stone-paved pathway completely undisturbed.

Tilting his head, Harry blinked, undisturbed by the first few drops of rain hitting his body.

"When he was speaking, of course." He made a disgusted face, sticking a tongue out. "It was completely and utterly _disgusting_. Bleech!" He exclaimed childishly as to emphasize the point he was trying to prove.

"Oh? Do we also taste disgusting?" Kiritsugu asked, interested, before he flushed like a lobster as he though out how his question could be misconstrued.

Oh boy, this question was wrong on _so_ many levels…

Luckily for Kiritsugu's frazzled nerves, Harry didn't take any stock in subtext of the question as he shook his head. "Nah. You all sound normal, I suppose. Why? Do you have something in mind?"

Hopeful green eyes stared in black ones as Harry caused them to stop. Kiritsugu frantically shook his head. "No, I don't!" His voice came out higher than he intended it to, like a squeak.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I think you know something." He hummed as he leaned forward and up to look into Kiritsugu's eyes from closer distance.

Kiritsugu sweated. "I swear I don't know anything." He backpedaled, even going so far as to retreat, with Harry following him, much to his dismay.

"You know but you don't want to tell me." Harry sing-songed, grinning like a lion about to pounce on his prey.

Kiritsugu did the only thing he could in this situation.

He fled.

His take off surprised Harry, allowing the taller teen to gain precious meters ahead, before Harry sprang after him.

"Oh no, you don't!" Harry bellowed out as he gave a chase - or as much as his body allowed him to do, causing Kiritsugu to do a double take before speeding ahead.

"Hell no! You ain't taking me down!" He called back, cackling evilly for a good measure, as he listened to Harry's verbal epithets to his person as the first drops of rain begun to fall down from the sky.

The Sky chased after his Storm both of them laughing in the rain as they enjoyed this rare moment of mutual childishness.

* * *

Waver was in seventh heaven. Or seventh hell, he wasn't sure which one would be more apt description to the lessons one Matou Kariya was imparting to him.

And this was the result of only one moment of carelessness on Waver's side, called leaving his reading material unsupervised when he knew Harry had had a mundane guest in the house, so to speak.

Honestly, Waver wanted to take one tiny leak, seriously. His bladder would've straight out _murdered_ him if he didn't. So he put the book on the table and scuttled of to the toilet, and when he came out, this tall, brunet man with dull hazel eyes swiping through the book. He was clad in dark grey trousers coupled with black shoes and maroon buttoned up shirt with a slim black tie that enlivened his clothing ensemble but did practically nothing to make him any more remarkable to Waver's eyes.

Waver must have made some kind of a noise because the unknown man lifted his head to Waver's way and upon seeing each other both of them froze like couple of deer caught in headlight.

"Boy. This is yours?" The man spoke first and Waver's first reaction was a high-pitched squeak.

"Y - Yes! And how do you know I am a boy?" He countered back.

In retrospection, it was a stupid question. But even Kirei had mistaken him for a girl at first and this weirdo took a single glance and guessed it right!

Dark eyebrows on the expressionless face arched. " _That_ is the single question you have in your tiny mind when a stranger stumbles upon _this?"_ The man barked out as he waved with the text in his hand.

Waver panicked and frantically waved his hand in the air as to placate the incensed stranger in front of him. "U-m, please, it's just a fiction text, sir!" He blurted out, and his heart was practically bleeding as he forced himself to label one of his textbooks about Alchemy a mere fiction text.

The man hummed thoughtfully. "Youngsters those days, reading rubbish like this. Then do us both a favor and burn this waste of paper here and now."

Waver felt his eyes burn with frustration. "S-sir, this book is m-mine. I am learning – "Green eyes wide with horror, he slapped his mouth shut, but the damage had already been done.

The man leaned forward, a humanized bird of prey… or a big praying mantis. "Curious that you would aim to learn all that nonsense instead of a language or two, boy." The man's walking stick gleamed in the light as the walking end of it poked into Waver's chest, causing the small boy to stumble backward with the force of the poke.

"It's a-a hobby, sir?" Waver heroically held back the tears threatening to come out of his tear ducts anytime now. Why was he being bullied like this!

Silence.

Waver was sure he had done it now. He would be drawn and quartered and his ghost would haunt Clock Tower for all eternity bemoaning the knowledge unobtainable to him because of his incorporeal form –

The man harrumphed.

" _Hm._ If you really want to lie then learn doing so better. That was pathetic." Turning around, the stranger shuffled to the couch and sat down on it, his right hand on the top of the walking stick's knob, while other one held Waver's precious treasure as if its contents weren't worthy of the material they were written on.

Waver took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to argue the man out of the room.

"But of course young idiots like you don't know any better." The man continued blithely, disregarding Waver's weak bristle at his insult at Waver's person.

Dull brown eyes caught indignant green eyes into a stare-off.

"Suppose it falls on me to prepare you for entering Clock Tower." The man exhaled with a grumpy sigh, and Waver honest to Alaya _stumbled_ with surprise.

Really, what were the chances of getting an honest to God instructor before he even arrived in London?

"I am _not_ doing that out of _goodness_ of my heart, mind you… however it's an _agony_ to read the drivel those idiots use to produce more idiots in their ranks. " The stranger - Waver still didn't get the man's name, sniffed with disdain.

"I am Matou Kariya and for the time being I will be your instructor in the Magi arts. If I can save at least one fool from becoming utter dunderhead brainwashed by the fools of Clock Tower, my life mission will be complete."

Waver's legs gave up, causing him to crash on the floor in daze.

"I'll tell Harry!" His threat, as feeble as it was, resulted only in the ride of man's eyebrows.

"Back talking already? And how do you know Harry doesn't already know that?" He volleyed the question back, a small sneer on the corner of his thin lips.

Waver blanched and it took all of his strength not to fold then and there.

 _That_ was the instructor Harry had picked for him?

Meanwhile, Matou Kariya was both cursing himself for landing in this position - curse his innate curiosity for picking up that drivel of a book, curse it _hundred_ _times_ – and his impulsiveness to announce that Harry's brat would be his apprentice, if an unofficial one.

It was those green eyes. They had to be, seriously. Because Lord Matou wasn't a soft-hearted fool - nope, no siree.

"Harry already knows." He reiterated, glaring down at the brat who was practically quivering o the floor like overly jittery mouse. "And whatever I will teach you, remains between the two of us. Can you at least do that or will I be convinced you are an utter simpleton once more?"

Waver wibbled and Kariya felt a sense of triumph of cowing the brat in.

But of course, those green eyes looked at him, and the brat just had to speak those four Gaia-damned words.

"I will ask Harry."

(…Here went his silently heroic image of teaching the brat on the sly.)

(Kariya Matou sulked.)

* * *

Be it luck or a simple bout of forgetfulness, Waver seemed to put off asking Harry about his Kariya being his instructor.

Kariya himself, however, made sure to pound the basics of the basics in the kid's head, along with verbally ripping apart the so-called textbooks in Waver's precious cache.

And don't let him start on the Clock Tower itself. Waver's aim of getting into as a student was akin to a fresh meat being dumped in the lake of starved sharks. It didn't help the kid was third generation Magus and didn't really show any exemplary abilities aside his nearly insatiable want to learn everything and anything about Magi arts themselves.

What interested Kariya was that the brat seemed to be drawn to the other scruffy brat with red eyes and wholly inappropriate vocabulary.

Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine. Harry's son by adoption and somehow, the brat also had surname of that shitty priest, Kirei Kotomine. Loud, rude, uncouth, taught by Harry's friends/bodyguards, usually seen in vicinity of his cute little _sorella_ Irisviel von Einzbern - and wasn't that a _shock_ \- and the other white-haired child whose sole gift was shattering the eardrums of all the witnesses around him via his voice. His name was something connected to sharks, but Kariya honestly didn't care. Brats would be brats.

Kariya himself would've gone mad if he had to deal with those two day by day, but somehow, Harry managed, much to Kariya's amazement.

" _ **VOIII!**_ SHITTY PIPSQUEAK! YOUR EARS DONE WITH BLEEDING OUT THE BRAIN MATTER YET?"

Kariya glared as Waver cringed above his notebook as the intrepid duo crashed into the room the two were in.

"I assure you there was no bleeding out any brain matter involved." Kariya's voice was sickly sweet, stopping the two rascals in their tracks.

" _Che_. It may as well have been." Xanxus scoffed as he glared at the dull-eyed Magus who taught Waver stupid-ass things. "Let him go, trash."

Aand, there it was, the inevitable Waver-Tug-O'War.

' _This is despair._ ' Waver pondered, shoulders slumping in resignation at the inevitable idiocy that would follow the first proverbial shots.

It happened every time _. Every. Damn Time_. Without exception. Maybe Waver was truly cursed somehow.

But this time, Kariya didn't comply. "I am not holding him in any way, shape or form. _You_ , on the other hand, are impending his progress and causing more workload for the both of us."

Xanxus felt a sense of doom approaching him, but he stubbornly stood his ground. What could that sick shitty trash do to him, anyway?

"And because you are so very _enthusiastic,"_ Why did that last word sound so disgustingly ominous? Xanxus saw Squalo trying to discreetly step back as to slink out of the room.

 _Oh no._ If Xanxus had to suffer through whatever shit this shitty trash thought out, Squalo would be alongside him, no ifs, ands or buts. Not so discreetly, Xanxus stomped on Squalo's foot, making him squawk with pained outrage, but Xanxus was cool as cucumber.

"I decided to teach you Japanese language." Kariya's smile may not be all teeth, but Xanxus still got a feeling it wouldn't be amiss on the shark. Or piranha.

Xanxus scoffed. "I already know it, trash, What's the use?"

Kariya hummed. "Of course, of course. Forgot I am dealing with a genius, sorry for taking such a late notice." His words were not the least bit apologetic, causing Xanxus to bristle and suppress the urge to manifest his Flame Claws.

"But I will title you _uneducated bumpkin_ until you will master written language." Kariya's smile was positively _beatific_. "And because I am such a _generous_ person, I will even allow your little cohort to learn alongside you two. Of course, if any of you three attempt to cheat, the consequences will not be to your liking."

The shark-named boy mouthed what seemed to be a litany of curses in different languages underneath his breath and really, it was quite fascinating, Kariya mused, how foul-mouthed such a young person could be.

"You are not taking Iri!" Xanxus puffed out like a spoiled kitten.

"Who said I am taking her?" Kariya hummed, and Xanxus gawked. Waver, on the other side, felt a terrible, terrible premonition.

"We can't let out your precious little friend you so _heroically_ attempted to save out of my clutches, can we?"

Woodenly, Waver turned his head to Xanxus and the boy's red eyes widened at the blank look in those green orbs.

" _Omae o korosu, teme."_ Waver's voice may have been dull, almost robotic, but the intonation was perfect.

Kariya was impressed.

Xanxus winced. This time, Waver was serious.

He looked at the swathes of paper littering the table, all of it masquerading as Waver's workload, and winced harder.

Whoops?

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Love is said to be the greatest force in the universe. Hate is said to be the greatest motivator. Life is said to be single most precious possession, and death was regarded as an inevitable end to all things._

 _Time and patience are the necessary ingredients to make something precious out of worthless ore._

 _But time was running out. Love ran out long time ago, replaced with hate and derision. For things to live there had to be a sacrifice to death._

 _Stupid humans._

 _Stupid humans with their ignorance and thirst for knowledge and even more idiotic plans._

 _The easiest way would be to erase all of them and then letting nature take its course. It would be so, so very_ easy _, too._

 _But Balance had to be adhered to, along with Promise._


	51. Chapter 51

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own them. They just like to take the residence, time ideas and my patience along with creative juices to feed themselves, like some kind of mini-vampires.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Yet another one finished. Tired, but _**harsej the pink dog**_ once again managed to make me laugh with their renditions of the drawn scenes from the first chapter. Really, thank you, I needed the amusement, especially when writing that little beast here. On that note, we are closing in on the Fourth Grail War arc, but not without some fireworks thrown in from the KHR side before it actually begins.

 _ **Shout Out 2:**_ Thanks for notification about mixed up names Aria/Luce. I've been writing that at a ghost hour and didn't notice it. So thanks again!

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, Fon being particularly uncharitable and Harry gets another weird friend/stalker on his tail. _**Not beta-read,**_ so excuse any grammar mistakes.

 _ **Dictionary:**_ Fon literally needs that section for himself right now. Yes, he has a mouth on him. Sorry, not sorry.

 _ **Nǐ tāmāde**_ _\- you bastard (_ really, this is a milder translation of the original phrase here, but for the sake of young(er) eyes…)

 _ **Aiya - hey/ oh / oh no**_ _\- this phrase is very flexible so it can have different connotations_

 _ **gǒushǐ - dog shit**_

 _ **tāmāde - bastard**_

 _ **Jiàn tā de guǐ - damn,**_ literally _**'see your ghost',**_ ( _Dammit/bloody hell_ , English connotations, but not exactly close to the Chinese turn of the phrase.)

 _ **gǒucàode - dog-humping.**_ General profanity

 _ **Dio mio - my God** _ (Italian)

* * *

 _I'm just a step away  
I'm just a breath away  
Losin' my faith today  
(Fallin' off the edge today)_

 _I am just a man  
Not superhuman  
(I'm not superhuman)  
Someone save me from the hate_

 _('Hero' by Skillet)_

* * *

Love is said to be the greatest force in the universe. Hate is said to be the greatest motivator. Life is said to be single most precious possession, and death was regarded as an inevitable end to all things.

Time and patience are the necessary ingredients to make something precious out of worthless ore.

But time was running out. Love ran out long time ago, replaced with hate and derision. For things to live there had to be a sacrifice to death.

 _Stupid humans._

Stupid humans with their ignorance and thirst for knowledge and even more idiotic _plans._

The easiest way would be to erase all of them and then letting nature take its course. It would be so, so very easy, too.

But _Balance_ had to be adhered to, along with _Promise._

And... of course. Stupid Balance. Yes, with capitals.

Everything had been in Order - or as much as it ought to have been - once upon a time. He had protected Her with his comrades and his beloved, to keep Her from eradicating humans as it were. They have been fairly successful at the task, but Time had been an enemy even they, as strong as they were, couldn't outmatch or outrun. Not to mention the increasing stupidity of the human race overall.

Sometimes he wondered whether all that technology hadn't enabled humankind to become stupider with each and every new invention coming their way. Of course, life was easier with those inventions, but for what price?

No. Stupid question. Humankind was self-destructive anyway - it was just his goddamned luck to have been caught in their oncoming struggle with balancing the World that way.

Now, he was the lone one to Keep the _Balance,_ shitty thing as it was, which was a very ungrateful job, what with him having to carefully work around those _Guardians_ that came every once in a while to indiscriminately mow down the worst offenders and thus extend Humanity's lifetime for a little bit more.

Sometimes, he wondered just why was he still getting out of the bed come morning. Or afternoon.

Oh. Yeah. Ramen. A food of gods. That, and he was sure her ghost would haunt him into his _un-life_ if he dared to slack in his duties.

It would be so, so _easy_ to give into hate, to say _fuck it all_ and let the world go to the dogs. It was heading that way, anyhow, no matter his struggles with keeping it the fuck away from it, like it was some unruly toddler with a thirst to poke at those pretty flames. Or something.

A week more, and the next generation would begin the circle anew.

Only, he received a notification about one of his... _employees_ being a tad bit bent out of shape.

An understatement of century. He sighed a weary sigh as he ruffled his hair while absentmindedly waiting for his ramen to be done. It was a three-minute slop, which he wouldn't have eaten in normal circumstances, but circumstances were anything _but_ normal, and somehow he would have to deal with this latest clusterfuck for his plans to proceed smoothly as usual.

Not that he wasn't used to things going pear-shaped at the last minute. In fact, these kinds of shenanigans were somewhat enlivening his existence, rare as they were. Those instances when they found out about the true meaning of being The Strongest never got old, but at the same time... he got tired of it.

All that drama. See, that's why he didn't put up recruiting posters with kittens and puppies to promote that shtick. All that whining and cursing was becoming dull, really. One of his secret hobbies - once upon a time - was to hide and record all the curses the idiots in question aimed at his person, but honestly, his hobby, as questionable as it was, lost its' flavor all too quickly, what with the curses being too repetitive. Honestly, not an iota of imagination among the lot. Suppose it was because they were humans, even as strong as they were, but... _humans._ Absentmindedly, the man splashed the water on his face to break away the latest dregs of sleepiness clinging to his mind.

Dull dark brown eyes glared at their mirrored counterpart as the white haired man stared into the glass surface, his lips thin and face youthful, not betraying the sheer number of years heaping themselves onto his shoulders.

* * *

Harry was humming a small ditty under his breath when he browsed through the supermarket aisles; Xanxus following him two steps behind, glaring at everyone who even dared to come three steps to his _turista._ Harry was trying to ignore him. Really, he did, but whatever Harry's three friends told him - the traitors - apparently changed Xanxus into some kind of a mini-guard dog in a kiddie shape. Harry could swear Xanxus was growling when one of those old grannies passed by and Harry helped her with finding _mascarpone_ cheese. _Honestly!_ She was, what at least in her seventies, but Xanxus glowered at her as if she had shaved his head bald or something. Xanxus' Flames, or as much Harry could feel them, were akin to a constantly pissed-off tiger cub with lion's territorial behavior thrown in. To deter any accidents (yeah, right _,_ _accidents,),_ Harry busied his little bodyguard with heaping many things upon his skinny arms. Vegetables - Xanxus wasn't happy, but he was appeased only when Harry passed him steak meat to guard, and there was a pan and six glasses in small cartoon, along with milk and spices.

However calm he was, it was only a façade. Harry forced himself to keep a carefree smile on his face as he carried his own load of grapes, coffee and tea while he pondered whether to take cheese or not. He had been feeling that gaze on him ever since they had entered the shop and while it wasn't in any way, shape or form intrusive, it was certainly annoying, especially when it followed them practically to each and every corner and turn. It was making Harry twitchy, like it used to whenever he had been in Hogwarts after every failed - or successful - adventure, depending on the turn of happenings. Finally, he had had enough and strode to the checkout.

A careful perusal of conveniently placed mirrors at the checkout - Harry didn't know why there were mirrors in the shop, but he blessed their existence anyway - revealed an ordinary throng of people minding their own business and a white-haired man with his own armload of …. Were those instant cups of ramen?

Harry couldn't help but glance back at the man. Yup, still the same scene. White-haired man with dark eyes and glasses, similar to his old ones, but on his nose, they looked more elegant, if there existed such a thing, and hoarding veritable mountain of those silly cups and still staring at him, as it was a completely normal thing to eyeball someone for a prolonged time without, you know, contacting the eyeballed person.

Harry scowled. _Rude_. Aunt Petunia would definitely be the bestest buddies with such a person, and they could exchange their numbers and newest gossip about what goes around in Nothingville.

Dumping his own armload on conveyor belt, his mood had been soured enough to not notice Xanxus' inquiring glance, and then, after he dumped his own load, the brat begun to glare back at the jerk.

Harry felt a little bit vindicated, and inwardly made a promise that this evening, Xanxus would get the best and juiciest steak he could prepare in their tiny domicile. Distracted by Xanxus' mighty glare, the white-haired man looked away from Harry and gave an unimpressed stare to Xanxus, which made the brat in question growl and - were those _Flames?_

Giving him a quick head cuff - Xanxus glared at him, but with Harry giving him his own warning stare, the brat huffed and dialed it down. Inwardly, Harry rolled his eyes. While Xanxus' overprotectiveness of him was cute, the brat ought to take care of not landing in the hot water himself. Little punk.

Hiding a fond smile, he nodded to the cashier as he paid for his purchases and cheerfully loaded the brat in question with his own bag, much to Xanxus' outraged squawk when he got the one loaded with vegetables and fruit. Harry snickered.

Oh, the _horrors._

* * *

But his stalker was, Harry had to admit, persistent. Anyone else would've give up, what with the convoluted paths Harry had taken up before entering their flat - that is, anyone normal.

But the stalker in question was not normal, and not a murderer. Probably. Possibly. The wards didn't register him as a threat - _yet_ \- so it was all the more confusing why did the man follow him almost religiously. Hell, if it weren't for his friends, Harry would bet Alucard that the man would've crept into his flat already!

But what was even more worrying was that neither Kirei nor Kuzuki noticed anything amiss.

"You. _Why_ are you following me?" He finally addressed his stalker as he sat in the cool shade of Colosseum's huge walls arcing into the sky above him as he stared down into the arena.

"My, you noticed me, then." The man approached him, and then sat beside him. Harry scented a faint whiff of ramen and something else wafting off of him. The scent reminded him of Forbidden Forest and crisp winter morning, causing his gut to clench in unexpected homesickness. "So, what gave me away?" The stalker's voice was smooth and low, an ordinary voice, but to Harry's ears, it was just a tad bit too nonchalant, like a humanized cat questioning a mouse how did it find out the cat was a… well, _cat._

As happy as he was to be safely away from all that madness, he still missed Hogwarts something fierce. "Hard not to, what with your veritable _mountain_ of ramen cups." Harry forced himself to scoff, as he turned his head, glaring at the man.

Much to his surprise, his stalker was actually younger than the color of his hair announced him to be. He was older than his friends, and if Harry had to guess, he was as old as that curly-sideburns bastard. Lanky, of ordinary height, clothed in faded out blue skinny jeans and hunter green long shirt over the black one, with much-used sandals gracing his bare feet. All in all, the man looked more of a carefree tourist than a threat.

A slight smile stretched across the pale lips, and was that a glint of humor in those eyes?

Biting back his ire, Harry returned the volley with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, no. I am just curious why exactly have you been following me for… oh, _three days_ before finally being ballsy enough to confront me. Isn't that a little bit... _unusual_ for a murderer?"

The man's eyes widened with surprise before he emitted a chuckle of delight. "Indeed. But if I am, as you said, a murderer isn't it kind of a moot point asking me why exactly did I follow you?" He was obviously entertained as he tilted his head, staring at Harry's eyes with amusement.

Harry gifted him with his flattest stare. "Humor me. If you intend to kill me, you at least _owe_ me that. You know, dead people can't speak, and all that jazz." He snarked back, only to receive another one of those foxy smiles back for his effort.

"You'd be surprised." The man's voice was, contrarily to the expression on his face, solemn. "But I suppose I found you interesting." He admitted, a little bit too easily for Harry's tastes as a stray breeze ruffled both their hair and clothes.

Frowning, Harry glared at him, trying to discern any hint of lie from his features. "That's it?" He asked, baffled. "Excuse me if I don't believe you, but lately many people are interested in me, and not all of them are good-willed." He failed to conceal the grimace as he spoke out the last word, but the man sobered down and nodded.

"Of course. My apologies for _… freaking_ you out." His apology, even if he meant it, Harry still glared at him. "Well, then freak me out _less,_ if you please." Huffing out, Harry crossed hands on his chest as he leaned back, glaring at him.

The foxy smile was back. "Of course, of course. So any suggestions on that front?"

 _Shameless._ The prat was utterly shameless. He even wiggled his right pinky, as if indicating a pinky promise, of all things! Even as miffed as he was, Harry couldn't help but feel entertained, and maybe a tad bit hopeful that this one wasn't after his skin and life, respectively. Lips tilting in a small, helpless grin, even if he tried to glare back at the white-haired menace, he nodded in assent.

"Your name, for starters."

The white-haired man stilled, as if completely surprised that his silly act actually worked. "Um… I am Kawahira?" He offered, his voice uncertain.

Harry smiled. "See? This was easy, wasn't it? "He smiled at the white-haired man as he offered him his own hand, silently delighting at the grumpy expression on Kawahira's face when he mentioned it was easy. "Now, if you only did that before your stalk-fest, you'd have earned ten out of ten." He mock-sniffed and Kawahira shot him an offended glare. "But with your performance, I'd say you scrapped a seven."

He suppressed a snigger at the expression of Kawahira's face. The man was obviously unused of his… stalking prowess being rated like this, and it was surprisingly fun to tease him like this, Harry found out, especially when the man offered him his own hand hesitantly, as if Harry's own hand was a cobra ready to strike at him at any given moment.

Grasping it, Harry marveled at the smoothness of Kawahira's palm. It was as if the man hadn't worked even one day in his life - but the hand was warm and deceptively strong, with a firm grip on Harry's own. (It was, Harry noticed, very different from Kirei's, Kuzuki's or Kiritsugu's.)

"Well, then I count on you to help me elevate it to ten, hmmm?" Kawahira returned pleasantly. "And can I have the honor of knowing your name?" Dark brown eyes, the color akin to that of bitter chocolate, semi-glared back at him, making Harry nod almost without his own consent.

"Well, 'course I would. I am Harry." He shot back a sunny smile. "It would be a service to community, really."

White eyebrows shot up at Harry's proclamation. "If you fail, I will demand compensation." Kawahira smirked back at him.

"Three cups of ramen." Harry agreed easily, ignoring Kawahira's mock-outraged squawk.

* * *

He… was not what he expected him to be. Of course, this 'Harry' person already impressed him, what with sensing him …when Kawahira had been observing him - Kawahira enjoyed Harry's twitching a little too much to be healthy, so it was a shame he had to cut the observation short - but the fun continued when he initiated contact with him.

Only, Kawahira found out, Harry was a snarky little brat, not afraid to poke at Kawahira's weak points. But on the other hand, there was an underlying kindness to him, so it wasn't that hard to see what exactly had attracted the future Storm Arcobaleno to him.

Talking with Harry was as if he had been thrown back into that time, when everything had begun. When he was young and foolish, thinking that he could bear the entire world on his shoulders with his comrades. But at the same time, it was the present - the present him, who was accepted, snarked at and teased, just like that, and this had thrown him in a loop.

There was also that pain and understanding and unresolved conflict behind those green eyes - really, Kawahira had to wonder who Harry's ancestors had been, what with those unusual green eyes. That kind of color couldn't be bred in ordinary humans, so it was a no-brainer Harry was something more.

And that _'something more'_ unsettled Kawahira something fierce.

There was still that problem of that unruly Stom sniffling around Harry and this… Kawahira grimaced… could be a problem.

* * *

Fon was a coward. Plain and simple. After Reborn's revelation _\- and honestly, how didn't Fon himself see that, it was so bloody obvious even a blind man could see it_ \- Fon barricaded himself in his room, refusing to come out.

Reborn let him be, which was almost more surprising than the unintentional find that Harry was a _Sky_ of all Elements. Fon didn't know whether to laugh or cry or rage. Here he was, tethered to Yuni, while there was a Sky out there who… Fon swallowed his saliva… could probably be his and his alone.

It was almost enough to drive the man to madness. And maybe he was mad - _insane_ , even - for not picking up the chance and running away with it as far as he could.

But this little Sky already had his Elements. Even if they were Polarized ones, and technically, Fon could've claimed a spot for himself in this little arrangement, considering those Elements were not counted as ones, courtesy of their dual natures. That was a technicality he could capitalize on if he wished to Court the little green-eyed Sky for himself.

That, however, was the bloody problem. _Literally_ bloody. Polarized Elements, for all they weren't acknowledged as ones - if they were Bonded to their Sky, loathed to accept anyone else into their fold. Some theorized it was because of their dual nature, others – more spiteful ones – said Polarized Elements were greedy bastards and that was it.

Being Polarized Element meant it was twice and thrice as hard to find the Sky to Bond to. Polarized Elements - as rare as they were - were looked down upon in mafia because they were perceived as weak, weaker than ones who had a singular affinity to their Flame.

But then, there were those like Harry's bunch. Fon frowned as he curled on his bed.

 _Kirei. Kiritsugu. Kuzuki._ All of them Polarized, all of them bound to one Sky. To Harry.

And wasn't _that_ a galling thought.

Even as Arcobaleno, Fon's flimsy bond to Luce was but an afterthought, coming second to her true Guardians. Fon had thought he could bear with it, had resigned himself to it, because he was too strong and there was no one - _no Sky_ \- to accept him like he was.

But then, Harry crashed into his life, changing Fon's three world views as easily as he breathed.

Making him laugh, tease, appreciate life as it was and be at ease he hadn't been ever since he was but a small child.

It took _Reborn_ out of all people to point out to Fon what he could have had -

"Stay away from him."

Fon's spine stiffened as he spun around, his eyes instinctively looking at the shade standing on the edge of the tall window, looking like pale wraith in the middle of the night.

" _Checkerface."_ The name escaped his mouth in a hiss as he glared at the man, practically forcing himself not to outright assault the bastard.

Clad in dove gray coat, golden shoulder-length hair, that damned mask and fedora and the clefted out chin, there was no mistake.

What irritated Fon the most was that goddamn easygoing smirk on the man's face.

Aside his little order, of course.

Fon's pupils widened as he comprehended just who Checkerface had meant with it.

" _Nǐ tāmāde."_ The Chinese martial artist practically growled out as his hackles were raised. "There was no such thing written in our contract."

Checkerface jumped on the floor, the sound surprisingly quiet for the man of his mass. He twirled the walking stick expertly, and Fon's shouders involuntarily stiffened at the movement.

The movement was swift and sharp, perfectly executed. The walking stick obviously wasn't just an ornamental nonsense, like he had supposed it to be before, and then, Checkerface was in front of him, that ridiculously big crystal barely touching the underside of Fon's chin, and oh, wasn't that _bad._

"Of course. But both of us know, that the word of employer may as well be the word of Emperor, don't we?" That silky slick voice purred out, and Fon lashed out with a quick kick, aimed at the man's stomach, but Checkerface was already out of his range, effortlessly bending when Fon sent after him one of his Storm Dragons.

" _Aiya,_ you are such a bad child." The bastard cooed at him. _Cooed!_

Fon's blood boiled. However, instead of losing his head further, he smiled at the bastard that would, after this _gǒushǐ_ of a mission would pass, be a _dead_ meat. He loosened his muscles and bowed to him, however detestable the action was.

"Of course, customer. This one thanks valued customer for guidance." There. All proper, good and properly submissive. It ought to do the trick.

Checkerface's head tilted. "Somehow, I am not inclined to believe you." If Fon hadn't been the master of poker face, he would have glared at _tāmāde_ something fierce.

"But if you want to have additional motivation… stay away from him, and he will stay safe."

Fon froze. _Jiàn tā de guǐ,_ that wasn't fair. He had already known Checkerface was an unfair bastard, but this… to forbid an Element their chance to Court a Sky… that was going, in Fon's humble opinion, a little too far.

But to chance Harry's safety in an off-chance Cherckerface wasn't serious…

Lowering his eyelids and looking to the floor, Fon's bow this time was a little more sincere.

"This one has heard and will comply." And oh, weren't those words the bitterest ones that passed his lips. Much to his surprise, Checkerface didn't have that gloating little smile on his face, as he, for once, was serious.

"See that you do. Because if you don't…" The man trailed out, and Fon blinked.

Such a short moment, and the next time he opened his eyes, his room was once again empty and cold, like the hollow inside his chest.

Stiffly, Fon walked back to his bed and sat on it. He then slowly breathed in and out, trying to calm his frazzled nerves and Flames dancing and snapping with agitation within his mind.

' _One more week. Just one more week.'_

One more week and then _fuck_ the rules, Fon decided. But meanwhile, it wouldn't hurt to devise the most painful torture to exterminate that checkerfaced _gǒucàode_ pest.

* * *

"You are just a bundle of trouble, aren't you?" Kiritsugu grumbled at Harry, when the latter one met him outside the Colosseum with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Who, me?" Harry looked at him with mock-wide eyes, but Kiritsugu wasn't fooled. The little minx was planning something _again_ , and it was driving all four of them stir-crazy ever since Harry had announced that he had yet another stalker on his tail. Seriously, was there something in Italian atmosphere for Harry to be practically trouble magnet for weirdos or something?

"But seriously, Harry, why?" Kirei interjected, the priest foregoing his usual attire for dark gray trousers and black T-shirt that lightly clung to his upper body, much to Harry's hidden - and failing to be such - fascination. The two of them had been playing tail-the-tail, meaning they tailed Kawashira when Kawashira tailed Harry. All nice and legal, really. And it was for the good of their own minds. Once, as one said, was happenstance, twice was coincidence, but thrice was an enemy action, and nobody wanted to take chance on _that_ \- well, except, it seemed, Harry.

"Would you believe me it was because I was bored?" Harry hummed thoughtfully, only to be met with two deadpan stares.

" _Harry."_ This time, it was Kirei who scolded him.

"Alright, fine!" Harry threw up his arms. "I was fed up with the stalker and I was bored! Is that enough for you, your majesty?" He snarked back at Kirei, along with glaring at the priest. Both Kirei and Kiritsugu exchanged a long-suffering glances between the two of them above Harry's head, much to Harry's ire. Why did he have to be such a shrimp _still,_ dammit!

"I honestly worry about your hobbies." Kiritsugu shook his head as he ruffled Harry's mop of a hair affectionately.

Harry glared at him. "Well, if you have any better ideas, I am _all_ ears." He grumped back, smirking at Kiritsugu's stumped face.

Kirei chuckled. "I believe that was, as they say, a ' _checkmate_ ', Kiritsugu." He needled the surprised Magus Killer, who just blushed and glared back at him.

"Oi, shut up, you are not any better!"

* * *

Luce bit her lip. Lately, nothing had gone like she expected it to go.

Her visions, which were always so accurate, were turning into a mess, and the Strongest Seven were beginning to drift apart, courtesy - or maybe that was unintentional _discourtesy_ \- of Chinese martial artist, Fon.

When Luce first met him, the man exuded kindness and calm that was in a stark counterpoint to Renato's charm and wit. The two of them quickly became her pillars she relied on to keep the rest of them in order. Not that it was hard to do, what with her Sky Flames, but Luce was always the one for 'better be safe than sorry' approach in such matters. Especially when she had been chosen to deal with this generation's Strongest.

She was sitting in the garden, listening to bird's chirping and cheeping above her, but nature's serene beauty had done nothing to quell her distress as she unconsciously hugged her stomach as if to protect the fragile life ensconced within.

She shouldn't have felt so distressed. Of course, with the date of ceremony fast approaching, it was understandable to feel some pressure, but not this. Not this … uncertainty and lack of knowledge, along with hurt and confusion as to why was Fon pulling away from her.

It… hurt, even if Fon was not her main Element, not even a properly Bound one at that and maybe it was because of that there was an itch in the back of her mind, a constant worry when she tripped on a mental hole to where Fon's Flames ought to have been.

But one day, Fon had gone outside and returned changed… and not for the better. Ever since then, he was drifting away from her, despite her best efforts, vanishing like mist between her fingers. Her Sky - the Sky she was so proud of - was suddenly deemed to be unsuitable for his Storm, not that the man himself gave her any of verbal or any other indication about it. Well, he was avoiding her, practically shying away from her, his flames curled inward, not coming out when her own ones were trying to coax them to come out and mingle.

And maybe it was that was had hurt the most, this unconscious rejection of what she had been patiently offering him, all the while knowing how it would end.

"Luce?" She blinked at the soft call. Turning her head, she spotted a familiar lanky form clad in expensive suit with fedora with yellow band and shirt, the black tie perfectly on point as always.

"Renato." She acknowledged, her voice tired and hoarse with the last bout of crying she had gone through an hour ago.

 _Dio mio,_ but pregnancy _sucked._ All those mood swings…

"It's hot. You should've been inside already." The man muttered to her, tilting his head like a bored cat as he looked at her with his unfathomable black eyes.

"Ah. Of course." A small, sad shadow of a smile passed her lips in a breath's moment.

"Renato. Do you think I am doing the right thing?" She suddenly asked, feeling childish but needing reassurance nonetheless.

Dark eyes scrutinized her. "You are. It's not your fault this - whatever it is - happened." Renato replied after a short pause. "There's not only you, but also Fon in the equation. And while I would love to have a word with him about hurting you, I can't help but understand where he is coming from."

Luce flinched. "You too?" She asked, hurt and dismayed.

Renato pulled the fedora lower onto his head, as to conceal his all too intelligent eyes, as if to spare her from the further hurt.

"I am not." His voice was firm and flat. "But I do understand the temptation of having a Sky without having to share them with… _others._ " The furrow of his eyebrows was practically a grimace for the Greatest Hitman.

Luce felt her shoulders slump with defeat

"But there has to be more, doesn't it?" Her own voice was so tiny she almost didn't recognize it.

"Maybe." The hitman allowed it. "But I also know Fon is an honorable man and he will heed his contract to the very end. "

' _And that,'_ Luce thought to herself grimly _'is exactly what I am afraid of.'_

Outside, she gave Renato a gentle, if pained smile, prompting hitman to offer her a hand to escort her into the house.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Grey eyes glared into golden ones._

 _Oh, this was_ so _not good. A fluffy-haired bystander thought frantically as he tried to think up some kind of a method to diffuse what would surely be the greatest disaster in Namimori._ Ever.

"Stop _bullying Tsuna." The white-haired boy glared at the black haired one who grunted back at him, tonfa on his hands glinting with an ominous light._

"Hn. _Late herbivores must be punished."_

 _Tsuna shook his head frantically, his body trembling with fear and panic as he looked around for help, but sadly for him, none was forthcoming._

" _U-Um, fighting on school grounds is pro – probit - err,_ wrong!" _he finally made an outburst, only to be subjected to the stares of the ones who were doing an impressive rendition of Mexican Standoff, minus guns but with a pair of tonfa and - where did Shirou get that sword_ from _, anyway? Because Tsuna was sure his friend didn't have any sword or another stabby-like object on his person some minutes ago._

" _Hm. He's right." Hibari tilted his head, looking for all he was worth like an eagle about to tear apart a tiny mouse and oh gods, Tsuna swore he won't be looking nature documentaries late into the night ever again, while Shirou smiled his_ 'I'm-passive-aggressive-bitch-bastard-fear-me-mere-mortals' _smile dialed up to ten nearing to eleven and why didn't anyone tell Tsuna that today was gonna be apocalypse, because he still hadn't read that latest Jump issue and told his mum goodbye because he would follow his dad to be a star and everything –_

" _Let's duke it out on the roof. You in?"_

 _Stabby objects in question, two tonfas and one wooden sword with a small tiger ornament on its tail gleamed with obvious blood-thirst in the afternoon sun while their owners exchanged equally bloodthirsty smirks ( - they were_ children, _for gods' sakes, they shouldn't have to know how to smirk_ yet _, what was_ wrong _with this world - ), and Tsuna_ whimpered.


	52. Chapter 52

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own this song or characters… but story, hmm.. _Yes!_

 _ **Shout Out: **_ Back from holidays, working like a horse and I've bought a first car. You can tell things on my side are being hectic, so I apologize for this oen being shorter than usual. And of course, I've mentioned Xanxus wanted to have revenge on a certain Cloud Arcobaleno, so here's his execution. Next chapter will conclude this arc and launch into Grail War one… but whoops, some people won't be happy about that.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ -verse on multiple scales, Xanxus is being petty, three guys are enables to Iri (the _horror,_ ) and Skull suffers. (Unable to battle real Sky attraction, anyone?) _**Not beta-read.**_

* * *

 _Vu d'en haut ces frontières, ces lignes qui nous écartent  
Ne sont que des dessins, des traits sur la carte  
Derrière chaque maison, des gens rêvent, des gens s'aiment  
C'est beau vu d'avion qu'on a l'air tous les mêmes  
Je pense à ça dans mon ciel si vide  
En bas éclatent des guerres civiles_

 _('Voler de nuit',_ by _Calogero)_

* * *

Xanxus Gabriel Potter - Kotomine had an evil plan.

Meaning, he was jealous of Harry's Guardians - not that he would admit that in a billion years - and he wanted a certain loud-mouthed s coward of a stuntman suffer through the inevitable wrath of the three monsters when they found out that the coward in question was encroaching on _their_ territory.

 _Their,_ meaning Harry.

The plan was very simple. Slip some helpful hints to Iri, who would then use her big puppy-dog eyes to con a certain person in attending to her and then invite him to meet Harry while insinuating to the Guardians that something was afoot and _kaboom,_ watch the fireworks unfold.

Iri, despite having her brains stuffed with more knowledge most Magi would ever learn in their entire lives, was still terribly innocent in worldly matters. While Xanxus may have lapsed in knowledge, he had more than enough of street smarts to survive in the world, as brutal as it was.

(That didn't mean Xanxus wasn't petty as _fuck_ when it came to Harry's undivided attention freely lavished upon his Guardians - a smile here, a pat on the shoulder there, a friendly cuddle or two and Xanxus was having Harry-withdrawal, dammit!)

The first part of the plan had been successful. An innocent suggestion here and there, and _voila_ , Iri was brightly suggesting to the blushing-to-his-ears stuntman to the dinner at Harry's, because Skull-sama was so funny and awesome and just all around nice guy.

(Xanxus doubted that Iri just employed the fine art of friend-zoning a guy there, considering she was, what, six years old? And Skull was eighteen at most, all angles and awkwardness, that vanished as soon as he was on one of his beloved motorcycles doing stunts no one in their sane mind would have dared to attempt But honestly, the guy blushed like no tomorrow, when in Iri's presence, much to Xanxus' entertainment and Iri's confusion. It had gone even so far Skull had to use makeup to conceal the traitorous rosiness of his cheeks, because professional pride...)

Thus, Xanxus was nonchalantly following the duo, half-heartedly listening to Skull's stutters in the presence of Iri's beaming face, right to the gates of Hell - ahem, I mean Harry's temporary domicile.

Which could also be termed as Hell, considering just who was waiting on the poor bastard on the other side of the doors.

(But that was not Xanxus' problem anymore.)

* * *

"Iri's got a friend."

Harry's casual mention of the fact halted any and all activity in the living room.

Kirei ceased refining his Back Keys via Mist Flames - he was trying to make them corrosive to anything they touched, except himself, as attested by a small mountain of massacred rubber duckies in front of him.

Soichiro stopped reading some obscure mathematical text provided by Kirei, his eyebrows arched above the upper rim of his glasses.

Kiritsugu, who was casually cleaning his guns, while taking most of the couch for himself, blinked at Harry. "And that should concern us, why?"

Harry shook his head, exasperated at their single-mindedness. Honestly, he loved those three - they were his best friends after all, but sometimes they could be pretty much dense when concerning social matters. And that, coming from Harry, who was Mr. Unsocial himself, was a pretty big thing!

" _Becaaause,_ " He drawled out, mockingly tilting his head as he wagged the pen he was twirling around his fingers, temporarily detracted from solving the _sudoku_ puzzle in front of him, willfully ignoring the heap of destroyed rubber duckies and unpolished gun parts at the either side of him. "They are coming for a visit?"

"Hopefully they are better than that shark bait." Kiritsugu grumbled sullenly. Honestly, the brat's voice ought to be classified as an illegal weapon in and of itself. Never mind the fact Squalo practically adored Kirei when he found out about the shitty priest and his shitty knives. Well, at least that Matou annoyance had been recalled back to Japan because of some undisclosed matters.

(Waver was reading some of Magi texts in his room like a good kid he was. Harry supposed he was like male Hermione, only without bushy hair and buckteeth and with a huge dose of pragmatism included.)

Soichiro hummed an assent and Kirei nodded, causing Harry to stop and stare.

"I thought you would be more concerned." Harry stated, as he furrowed his eyebrows. What was _wrong_ with them, really? Before, they had been completely cuddly lot, to the point of being underfoot whenever and wherever Harry wanted to go, not letting him go out of their sight or touching distance - many a cuddling session had been caused even by Harry's slightest movie after that disastrous… black thing, whatever it was, and now, they were, thankfully, back to their more rational selves, but still camping in the living room, doing whatever, just not letting Harry out of sight for more than five minutes, despite Harry being hearty and hale again, thank you very _much_ , and now, they didn't care about incoming visitors? Just what kind of one-track mind did they even _have?_

"It's Iri's friend." Kiritsugu stated, as it that explained everything, and maybe it kinda did, but Harry failed to see how.

" _But - !"_ Harry tried to oppose, because _what?_ They didn't tolerate Kariya, they didn't tolerate Kawahira, Fon was barely a few notches better than Kawahira, not that this was any consolation, as Harry's social life suffered because of those three bozos who designed themselves Harry's bodyguards every damn time either of those three were near Harry, Xanxus was acceptable because he was Harry's son, Iri was… well, _something_ , and Squalo was Xanxus', and thus not their concern.

And Iri - well, whoever she would led in their crazy abode, was Iri's thing, and thus not their concern. Until, of course, it began to make moves on Harry. (Not that Harry himself knew about that.)

"Iri's problem." Kirei deadpanned. "Really, Harry, you ought to be happy for the girl to grow up so quickly. At the rate she is going, we may soon hear the wedding bells ringing - " His last word was muffled by Harry throwing a pillow at his face

 _"Shut it_ , you." Harry huffed at him, both entertained and annoyed Kirei's nonchalant attitude. "But honestly, what if it's one of those bozos again?"

"Mafia?" Kiritsugu snorted. "Not happening. Not after that last warning we've give to them." he finished snootily, looking at the gun he just finished polishing before dropping it on the desk with a clatter and reaching for the next one which he begun to deftly dismantle with a master's precision.

"Iri is a well-behaved child." Soichiro put his two cents in. " I doubt she would get in any kind of trouble like Xanxus." Upon hearing his well-meaning assurances, Harry made a face and slumped on the couch with a long whine.

" _Whyyy_ did you have to say that? Don't you know Murphy's law?" He complained, groaning as he rubbed his face. "This is, like, rolling red carpet to our doors and inviting trouble to enter because hello, welcome, we're ready to be your personal bitches." He snarked.

Kiritsugu choked at Harry's lament and upon the coughing, Soichiro patted his back a bit too hard, making him glare at the assassin in annoyance.

"Harry, _language!"_ Kirei admonished Harry, his own eyes also widened with shock at Harry's crass language, the poor duck neatly beheaded in process. .

"It's English!" Harry fired back, before he turned back to Soichiro. "Whatever happens now, I will blame you for it, just so you know."

And then, the bell rang.

* * *

Skull De Mort was nervous. He had heard so much about Iris' precious little family he knew they were very dear to the girl, and he wanted to make the best impression possible. Thus, he was carrying a small bouquet of red roses and a bottle of champagne - Iri was carrying the box with assorted chocolates, cheerfully chatting his ear off, while Xanxus was leisurely skulking behind them and making Skull nervous with his presence - especially because of that shiny choker around his throat that on occasion moved.

(Tribble because a master in disguising itself in random clothes, much to Skull's dismay, because the goddamn thing had tried to eat him each and every goddamn time it came in contact with him. Once, it even camouflaged itself into a cool purple sweater which Skull had gleefully donned on - only for the said sweater to reveal his appetite and cloth-filled fangs. It went without saying that Skull had been deathly afraid of any type, shape or form of sweaters henceforth.)

"We re ho-me!" Iri sing-songed as she entered the flat, quickly changing her shoes for comfortable flats and running ahead, with Skull apprehensively following her.

"Hello, Iri!" Another voice replied her, just as cheerful and Skull's body loosened a little. This was no Reborn, no Viper, and no Verde - it wasn't that kind of a haughty voice.

It was kind, friendly and warm and Skull wished someone would have welcomed him with such an enthusiasm.

"I brought a friend!" Iri's bright smile could've illuminated the room, and Skull damn near fainted with how cute it was, letting himself to be led into the room, with the roses and champagne in his hands, stumbling a little.

The room the entered was simple, but what caught Skull's attention was a pair of soft green eyes on a smiling face.

(Not like Verde's, his mind concluded, they were deeper, softer and somehow reminding him of Ireland and it's verdant treasures. )

"Uh-h, Hi!" He squawked, feeling his cheeks flush hot under the scrutiny of the younger teen.

"Hello, and welcome to our humble abode." Harry - it had to be Harry, those green eyes were unmistakable - replied back, amused. "I am happy to have you here - oh, and thank you for taking care of those two rascals. Iri had told me many things about you…. All good, of course."

"Glad to hear than." Now Skull was sure he was redder than a cooked lobster. "Um, here!" He finally remembered his gifts and thrust them toward Harry, only for them to be snatched by the gun-toting guy, and the other priest-looking one plucked his load of a bottle of champagne delicately as if it were a time bomb instead of a coming champagne bottle.

"Kerry! Kirei!" Harry looked just as mortified as his own bodyguards beside him looked expressionless. "Excuse them, I've had a bad spell and they are still hovering up and around even if" - there, Harry gave his bodyguards an evil glare "– it's not really needed anymore. And Kerry, you did the same thing you accused Xanxus of doing. How's that fair?"

 _'Kerry'_ , as Skull found out the gun maniac was being called, looked at Harry with a deadpan expression. "Some of his ideas are rather on point, wouldn't you say, Kirei?"

" _Um-hm."_ The priest agreed, serenely as he nodded and for some reason, Skull felt as if he was in front of the God of Underworld himself. "Thank you for your offering; we will make sure it won't go to waste."

"P-please do?" Skull's squeak sounded more like a question than agreement.

"But of course." And since when did priests learn to purr like big, bloodthirsty, carnivorous cats?

Harry shot the priest a glare while he jabbed an elbow into his rib. "Well, we _do_ have a guest here, and since you insist on e staying put, mind to make some coffee and sandwiches?" He gave Kirei a sweet smile, laced with a bit of killer intent, before turning back to Skull, acting as if it hadn't even happened.

( _That_ , in retrospect, should have been Skull's first warning that something was amiss.)

"Now, I heard you are a stuntman?"

Skull smiled. "But of course! You are in the presence of the Great Skull-Sama, the one whom even Death hates!" He made a victorious poise before screeching with shock as he dodged a - was that a glowing _knife!?_

" _ **KIREI!"**_ Harry was appalled. Why, just _why_ did a perfectly good evening go to the dogs yet _again?_

And Xanxus, that little bastard, was grinning in the background like devil himself, on the verge of cackling at the mess happening in front of him. Harry wouldn't put it past him to not orchestrate this whole mess somehow.

"Oh. I think we ought to _validate_ that claim of yours, if you don't mind. Mind you, it will only hurt… _a bit."_ Soichiro joined, and Skull unintentionally became a very good contortionist in order to avoid fist, wrapped in several arcs of crackling green lightning.

"Don't mind them, Harry." Kiritsugu purred as he deftly caught the bottle of champagne when Kirei threw it to him. "It's just another… shall we say, way of _welcoming_ the guests in our humble abode."

"But of course!" At Iri's happy chirp, Harry looked at the little girl as if he saw her for the first time.

"Oh my _god - "_ He breathed out, appalled at the revelation. "Since when did you convert my pure little princess into a battle maniac?"

Iri just cheered at the chaos happening across the table, on which both gun parts and half-melted plastic ducks were still in their respective heaps, not moved a bit.

"Happy to be of service." Kiritsugu, that bastard, was as smug as one could be, as he smirked at Harry, causing the green eyed wizard's eyebrow to twitch with irritation with his 'honor guard' in all that mess.

"I am sincerely blaming all three of you." Harry told him flatly.

(Thank God and Merlin Waver was a good child out of the three of them. Otherwise, Harry's life would've been a _ruin_.)

(On the second thought, than God and Merlin for sound proof seals that prevented Harry's sole good child's innocence from those battle-thirsty maniacs raging at his guest in front of him.)

Xanxus cackles became even louder.

(Strongest Cloud or not, Xanxus' bait of to lure the Skull in range of Harry's Sky Flames worked _perfectly._ And of course, Kirei sensed the intruder encroaching on their territory and acted, despite him being Sun and Mist, which had been a surprise, considering the one with Cloud Flames was Kiritsugu., thus the one most inclined to snap. Xanxus' little props, red roses and champagne bottle, did their job just magnificently, and Skull even exacerbated things via his blushing… and his posturing, that was seen as a challenge to their places in Harry's Sky.)

(Xanxus' revenge was Perfect with capital P. And not even being delegated to eating only vegetable dishes for a week could diminish that fact.)

(Now… how to convince Kiritsugu to flip out on that _bastardo_ of a stuntman again?)

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Their last job was shockingly simple. Climb onto the top of mountain and be there for half an hour._

 _Fon gritted his teeth._ 'Only half an hour', _he had to repeat to himself again and again, while straining to hold back his temper. Half an hour, and then he would be free to pursue his Sky. Half an hour and this farce would be a mere shadow among the memories of his life._

 _Half. An. Hour. He glared at the back of their erstwhile Sky - and he used that title with the greatest contempt possible - from below his eyelashes, careful to restrain his Flames not to snap out and devour her own._

 _The weather was mild, and on any other occasion, Fon would've enjoyed this little trek - because despite of its difficulty, it was a trek for someone of his caliber, and the only two they really had to take care of were Mammon and Luce, as they had to adjust to their tempo._

 _(Skull, despite being a civilian stuntman, was surprisingly fit for one.)_

 _That half on hour seemed to stretch into infinity and Fon contemplated the merits and demerits of setting the woods on fire before fleeing in resulting pandemonium._

 _Half an hour. A whole eternity._

 _Clenching his jaw imperceptibly, he steeled himself and walked ahead, not even reacting at Luce's feeble attempt to draw him in conversation despite bland - and wholly fake - smile of polite disinterest._


	53. Chapter 53

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own that one. I just had one hell of a time writing it. _/exhausted/_

 _ **Shout out:**_ Okay. This is becoming crazier the longer I am writing it. _Augh._ Honestly. What do I _do_ with this story, really? Hope you are prepared, because the feels are real and stinging.

 _ **Warning:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, _**not beta-read**_ and I really have to _stop._

* * *

 _And if I only could,  
I'd make a deal with God,  
And I'd get him to swap our places,  
Be running up that road,  
Be running up that hill,  
With no problems._

 _If I only could  
Be running up that hill  
With no problems_

 _"If I only could, I'd be running up that hill.  
If I only could, I'd be running up that hill."_

 _(_ _"Running up That Hill" by Placebo)_

* * *

Their last job was shockingly simple. Climb onto the top of mountain and be there for half an hour.

Fon gritted his teeth. _'Only half an hour'_ , he had to repeat to himself again and again, while straining to hold back his temper. Half an hour, and then he would be free to pursue his Sky. Half an hour and this farce would be a mere shadow among the memories of his life.

 _Half. An. Hour._ He glared at the back of their _erstwhile_ Sky - and he used that title with the greatest contempt possible - from below his eyelashes, careful to restrain his Flames not to snap out and devour her own.

The weather was mild, and on any other occasion, Fon would've enjoyed this little trek - because despite of its difficulty, it was a _trek_ for someone of his caliber, and the only two they really had to take care of were Mammon and Luce, as they had to adjust to their tempo.

(Skull, despite being a civilian stuntman, was surprisingly fit for one.)

That half on hour seemed to stretch into infinity and Fon contemplated the merits and demerits of setting the woods on fire before fleeing in resulting pandemonium.

 _Half an hour._ A whole eternity.

Clenching his jaw imperceptibly, he steeled himself and walked ahead, not even reacting at Luce's feeble attempt to draw him in conversation despite bland - and wholly fake - smile of polite disinterest.

"No." It was a rare occasion for Harry to be so obstinate and almost outright ornery about something without a good reason, but right now, it was exactly what was happening right then and there.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Xanxus cajoled, tugging at his hand. Harry scowled at him as he tried to curl back into the couch and under his blanket.

" _Fun?"_ Harry repeated incredulously, as he tried to burrow himself deeper into the blankets. It was an unholy hour of… Harry half-glared at the dawn slowly seeping through the window, the palest blue at the horizon with stars slowly fading out of the view… it had to be, what, around four, five in the morning? It what way was such an ungodly hour counted as fun?

His mood became even worse as he heard the sounds from kitchen, both Kirei and Kiritsugu already making a breakfast, quietly talking - more like sniping - at each other - while Soichiro was nowhere to be seen, but that was alright. Soichiro was always one for mystery, skulking around like alley cat.

"Yes, fun." Xanxus decided to be stubborn today and when the blanket had been let go off, Harry felt a temporary sense of relief, that abruptly ended when Xanxus jumped on him in all his bratty, bony, sharp knees glory, causing him to emit a squawk.

" _Oof!_ Xanxus, you little _brat!_ " Harry hissed at him, internally cringing at his sore tights and _gods_ , Xanxus was the _worst._ "What the hell do you want, and why can't it wait for a more appropriate hour? Like, nine in the morning?" He growled at the troublesome bundle smugly sitting on the top of him.

"That wouldn't be fun." Harry wanted to whimper at Xanxus' simple logic. Inwardly, he thought Xanxus was picking Kirei's trolling ways way too easy to be natural…

' _But then, Xanxus is also Kirei's kid.'_ Harry concluded to himself sourly before snapping his hands out and giving the said troublesome brat a hard noogie, earning a loud combination of squawk and hiss in return.

Thanks to Kirei and Kiritsugu's treatment, combined with Soichiro's food medicine (Harry still cringed at the taste of some of those dishes - really, it wouldn't lose to Skele-gro or some of wizarding world's more disgusting potion creations in it's abilities to kill one's taste buds,), Harry could say he didn't suffer much damage from Xanxus' little attack, aside losing some hours of sleep and general bruises. For such a scrawny brat, Xanxus could be surprisingly heavy, when he wanted to be, and his sharp elbows and knees were nothing to sneeze at, either.

"Fun, you say?" He growled at his son - and gods, was that a weird thing to think - menacingly as the brat tried to struggle out of his hold. "Shall I show you my definition of fun at an ungodly hour at morning?" He asked the squirming bundle of trouble that managed to roll at Harry's right side, dark hair mussed and cheeks flushed, looking for all he was worth like a breathless chipmunk… with fangs.

Xanxus stilled, and then, the hellion bared his canines at him, a hint of challenge in those red eyes.

"You are fucking _on_."

Harry's eyes widened at that proclamation of war, but before they could launch a new offensive at each other (one Harry would be lost, considering his love of the covers and him being covered in them like a mummy,), there was a short knock on the doors before they opened.

"Xanxus, I told you to wake up Harry. Why haven't you done that yet?" And lo and behold, there was Soichiro with his stone face and usual ensemble of gray pants and T-shirt in likewise color with sleepy Iri cuddling at him.

The little girl was already clothed in a cute blue violet dress with pink piping at the edges and some butterflies in the same color being weaved in her braided hair, wearing cute little black ballerina flats with tiny pink hearts and blue stars on her feet.

Harry's gut sank. Whatever they were preparing to do, they made even Iri to go along with the scheme, considering she was already clothed in proper clothes for the day.

"I woke him. It's not my fault he is being a lazy-ass layabout." Xanxus snapped back, his voice automatically hushed as he saw Iri sleeping on Soichiro's shoulder. Harry stared. While the sight was cute, there was a deep feeling of betrayal at his little family's plotting to steal those precious hours of sleep away from him for what would undoubtedly shape up one of their usual disasters.

"You are _not_ being serious." Harry groaned, as he rubbed his face. "It's _way_ too early and what do you _even_ \- "

"Harry." His complaining had been cut off by Soichiro's single word. Gray eyes stared into green for some indeterminate moments, waging a silent war between them, before Harry gave up, sighing.

"Fun?" He queried, already defeated and preparing for the bitter reality of keeping himself awake at the ungodly hour of… his ears caught a faint sound of morning bells ringing in the distance… four in the morning?

Soichiro gave him a faint nod.

"Fun." He affirmed, his lips tilting up in a fond smile at Harry's tragic, woe-is-me look of despair at leaving his all too comfy and cozy bed.

Quietly, Soichiro motioned Xanxus to come as he backed out of the room with Xanxus following him, all three of his visitors leaving Harry once again alone, listening to the still-asleep world with wordles despair at this new circumstance he found himself in as he stared at the white ceiling.

 _Fun,_ his arse. Where was Voldemort when one needed him? At least then Harry could sleep his fill, dammit!

* * *

It was supposed to be a surprise to alleviate Waver's departure from the day before.

Harry had known that Waver stubbornly wanted to go to England to that Clock Tower school of his, despite Harry's own… problems with that country. Kariya had tried to avert the stubborn boy from his little path to hell - because, as Kariya had confided in Harry, that was what Clock Tower essentially was, and they gobbles such innocent fishes like Waver for snack, proverbially speaking. If one was first generation Magus aspirant, they usually weren't well to do, if they didn't have an influential backer or outstanding talent with a good dose of cunning to tide them over the so-called formation years in the college.

Not that Harry had known much about it, but Kariya made it seem like some kind of a secret magic institution, and Harry had once asked if they would be willing to accept him, only to be gifted with such a horrified stare he let up on the subject at once. Whatever this Clock Tower was, Kariya was _extremely_ disinclined to recommend him to go to it - not that it stopped him from grooming Waver to survive in it.

Despite Waver's enthusiasm on the issue, Kariya had been a hard taskmaster, more often than not grilling the poor boy to tears and frazzled nerves when he took refuge in Harry's hug at the end of the day, much to Kariya unsympathetic stare and caustic remarks that things at Clock Tower would be even _worse._

So, Waver had grown up a little, not being such big of a crybaby - nobody could be if one wanted to survive the Hellion Trio in the shape of Xanxus, Iri and Squalo, on top of hellish tutoring given by one Kariya Matou.

If one asked him, Waver would flatly admit that surviving the first enabled him to somewhat figure out the second… because there was nothing more dreadful than facing whatever mess the three of them had done for the day, usually before dinner.

Still, that didn't stop Waver from a small bout of bawling when the time came and he had to board the airplane for London. But at least this time he had equipped him with a trunk, discreetly locked to Waver's magical signature, so that would be virtually overlooked by anyone greedy enough to think to steal it, along with giving him enough of money for three months. Harry had wanted to do more, but Waver had been stubborn on the issue, agreeing only on the basics and necessities to be provided with.

Iri had given the poor boy a kiss, making him red as a tomato, and Xanxus' little gift was a threat to Waver if he returned back to being a wimp, there would be hell to pay and Xanxus would be on him with his blades in a jiffy because He. Would. Know.

(Waver took this little threat seriously, with how furiously he nodded his acquiesce to it.)

Squalo's gift was more or less similar to Xanxus', along with urging the freaked out Waver to better find his fucking weapon before they meet or else…

(Squalo was a sword freak. Xanxus had his guns, courtesy of Kiritsugu, Iri was… Iri, her cuteness was a weapon in and of itself, never mind her being an artificial human in a sense and thus having a monstrous strength magic-wise. The only one without any sort of weapon was Waver, much to the boys' irritation and Waver's despair, because there hadn't passed a day the horrible two wouldn't nag him about this little tidbit. As for weapons being essentially prohibited? Pshh, rules were always meant to be broken, and nobody would've expected of kid to wield the toy sword or gun, no matter how realistic they seemed to be, efficiently.)

Waver had a moment of insanity, what with threatening them back to buckle down and keep learning whatever Kariya sent them… _or else._

Both Xanxus and Squalo were unimpressed, but Iri promised Waver to keep the two on the narrow track, so to speak, much to their consternation and Waver's quiet glee.

(What Waver didn't know, was that his little _request_ would in oncoming years bloom into Varia Quality standards because _of course_ , those two had to be an _overkill_ in and of themselves.)

Harry's three Guardians were more or less indifferent to Waver's departure, even if secretly, they had to admit they would miss the boy's freak-outs at whatever insanity he had been dragged in via the three hellions he had babysat.

Harry himself was happy and sad. Happy because Waver was now good to go his own way, and sad, because the green-eyed boy with a page cut was his sole island of sanity in the whirlwind of madness his little crowd had been causing around him. Not that he wasn't content having his friends, and the kids were certainly amusing, but there was just something about Waver that the boy had quietly and unknowingly to Harry wormed his way in Harry's heart.

And maybe it was because of that little fact that Harry had found it hard to let Waver go. Because he had seen something of himself in the quiet and effeminate boy who freaked out all to easily and loved to hide in a corner to read and learn.

That night he became the center of the cuddle pile of his makeshift family Even Xanxus had joined in, despite his fervent spats with Harry's Guardians on the issue of the cuddle rights, but this time, the fiery boy deigned to share the snuggles with everyone, even if he used Iri as a shield from Kiritsugu on the way.

The cuddle pile had helped. (Harry just about melted with happiness and contentment, really.) But this.. this travesty of a morning torture with all to early waking up did _**NOT!**_

However, Harry's friends (who needs enemies when Harry had friends like those, really) and both of his adopted brats thought it was a spectacular idea and weren't inclined to budge from it.

Harry knew he was outnumbered and outgunned and just plain outvoted on the issue.

So really, the only thing to do was to get himself up to find out what, exactly, did they think it was worth of throwing him awake at such an ungodly hour at morning.

Giving up on his day of peace and feeling an unreasonable amount of dread in his gut for some reason, Harry slowly got up and padded to bathroom.

* * *

"What is your surprise?" Harry was not a morning camper, and even less happy about the circumstance he got himself in.

"You will see." Soichiro's answer was slow and measured, and Harry glared at his gray-eyed friend.

"Ought to be one _hell_ of a lot surprise, considering you got me up at ass-up o'clock just to trek to some godforsaken forest," Harry growled back at him, still peeved, despite warm breakfast settling in his gut. The morning was unreasonably chilly for summertime, almost enough for Harry to see wisps of his own breath in front of him. He had been clothed in comfortable clothes, but the chill still pervaded his body, which made him feel all the crankier in turn.

They had taken a bus to come here, but yet, they were trekking for - what, two hours yet, and there was no end in sight. The dark, dull shades of dusk were fleeing from sky silently, but their surroundings were still uncomfortably monochrome, like some painter forgot to paint them with warm colors for some reason. Soichiro was still carrying Iri, who was sleeping on his shoulder, with tiny snores emitting her mouth, while Xanxus was having some kind of a quiet argument with Kirei… and judging by boy's glare at the priest, losing it horribly, while Kiritsugu plodded beside Harry, looking slightly strange in his bomber jacket and carrying on his back a bag Harry assumed was stuffed with food and other miscellaneous items for picnic in nature.

The higher they were going, the more unsettled Harry felt.

Something was wrong. And no, it wasn't because of the unreasonably early hour or something like that. But it was like a pressure weighing down on Harry's shoulders and the lead ball in his gut sinking a tiny bit lower with every step he was taking to the, what Harry assumed, was summit of this morning's journey.

"I don't like this." He grumbled to himself, his shoulders hunching sullenly as he eyed the well-worn dirt road leading up, up and up.

"But you will." Kirei called from ahead, with Xanxus nodding his assent, the brat still having a gall to smirk at Harry's misery at the same time.

"Are you tired?" Kiritsugu asked him, his dark eyes concerned. Harry flashed him a smile that wouldn't be amiss on a Reaper's face.

"Just _peachy,_ darling." He replied, his voice sugary sweet, and by Kiritsugu's twitch, his friend knew that too.

A pause, and then Harry spoke up again.

"By the way, are we there yet?"

* * *

The climb took them an hour and a half, but they were finally on the peak. Xanxus was red in his face from the effort, while Kirei and Soichiro were barely winded, and Kiritsugu occasionally wheezed a harsh breath out. Harry, however looked like he was about to keel over – not that he was that weak, he held tempo along his friends easily, but the higher they went, the harder that something was pressing down on him, and he had to practically force himself to continue and not to outright barf out the food he had consumed at the breakfast. The only one full of energy and chattering mile per minute was Iri, who was at time fluttering from one side to another, with Xanxus dutifully following her despite his exhaustion, with an amused little smirk on his face.

Harry couldn't help but admit the sight was worth it. From one side, they could see the sea horizon and both the houses and palaces of Rome looked like something of a kid's toy, carelessly planted here and there, seemingly without rhyme and reason. The darkness was also losing his hold on the horizon, the previously dark line shimmering in warm yellow mingling with dark grey of the sea's surface.

Slowly, colors began to bled back into panorama, and Harry watched, spellbound, as previously dark and drab colors began to transform into much more lively greens, blues, red, yellows and all the combinations thereof.

"Are you regretting it now?" Kirei's voice came behind him as Harry stood, face turned toward the sunrise that was silently uncloaking its splendor. Turning his head left to look at him as the young priest approached him, Harry gifted him with a brief smile.

"Can't say I do." He replied honestly. "It's… kind of awe inspiring. If an artist could paint it like this…" He waved at the scene with a hand.

"Nature inspires, humankind copies." Kirei supplied, his voice soft and steady as he closed the distance between them, close enough that Harry could scent myrrh, blood and olive wood drifting from him. It was a strange combination, Harry supposed, but it fit Kirei to a T. The priest watched him, eyebrow cocked slightly and a faint smile on his lips. With his slightly longer hair - almost long enough for a small ponytail, he looked more like an unruly youth than a priest, despite being clad in his usual ensemble of black trousers with equally colored _gakuran_ jacket and golden cross on his chest. Harry smiled back at him comforted by his presence.

Even if he felt something going on, everything would be alright… wouldn't it? There was Kirei, and -

"Nothing wrong with copying this. It's wrong when they try to copy natural disasters." Kiritsugu interrupted Harry's musings. Kirei's gaze visibly cooled as he looked at the Magus Killer, a fact Harry decided to ignore with a long-standing practice.

Honestly, the two of them were like cats and dogs… with Harry being unsure who exactly was a cat and who a dog in this friend-enemy-rival relationship between the two of them. Sometimes, he thought Kirei was a cat, because of his off-standish nature, and Kiritsugu was a loyal dog. But then, when Harry was involved, Kirei stuck to him like a limpet, and Kiritsugu was like planet orbiting around him, if that made any sense. Not too close, but not too far, either.

"Your description of yourself was very apt." Kirei nodded to Kiritsugu, who immediately bristled at priest's remark. Clad in bomber jacket with a gray T-shirt and jeans paired with sneakers, nobody would've thought this teenager was in any way, shape or form dangerous to anyone.

But Harry knew - _had known_ , had been forced to confront that facet of his friend with all that mess that had happened when they lived in Rome. It was hard to equalize an image of a ruthless killer with one of a fiery teenager growling at Kirei for needling him so effectively.

Harry ought to be _afraid_ of them. _Terrified,_ even, and that was not even counting in Soichiro who had killed in front of Harry's very eyes without any shred of remorse afterwards. Soichiro, who was clad in simple dark gray jeans and green T-shirt, and looking more of a student of vacation than anything else.

Soichiro, whose whole body was a living weapon, who could effortlessly crush a human body in hundreds of ways in a blink of an eye, killing or incapacitating it for life. And yet…He was Harry's friend.

All of them were Harry's friends. For better or for worse… and in this half-light, half-darkness, sometimes looking more like mirages than people, they looked soft with knife-sharp edges ready to burst out if needed be, dangerous with a touch of attractiveness that earned them many of a glance and stare of people on the street.

Harry wasn't blind. As much as he would've loved to deny it, his hormones were well and truly alive, and it was hard to deny that his friends were attractive bunch of people when being eye to eye with the said fact day in and day out.

And this was not even counting Kiritsugu's little confession… that thankfully remained undisturbed to this day. No need to rock the boat, and all that, but sometimes… sometimes, Harry wondered. What would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted and in a hurry. How would he respond to Kiritsugu's confession? Would he deny it? Would he accept it? And how would Kiritsugu accept it - remaining as just a friend, or being admitted closer, as a _l-lover?_ Harry suppressed a blush at the thought, but judging by the warmth of his cheeks, he wasn't entirely successful, even now, when he had an ample time to get used to an idea.

But Kiritsugu was his friend, and wouldn't that be _weird?_ Kissing someone like that? Harry had tried to imagine kissing Hermione or Ron like that… and promptly mentally gagged at the thought.

' _Nope. No dice.'_

Cho was…Harry's beautiful dream, but she was just that. A dream that blinked out of his sight like a soap bubble. And these dark eyes of hers – they changed into eyes of his friends. Darker, edgier, less likely to tell the feelings of their owners if one was an outsider, but… _there._

And it scared the _fuck_ out of Harry. The first time that had happened he actually woke up sweating and panting, as if it were some kind of a nightmare, and then looking into eyes that starred in his dream in real life caused him to panic and practically dive under the duvet while his friends took turns trying to cajole him to tell them what spooked him so.

But how do you tell someone that you dreamed of their eyes and it was scary as _shit_ \- much scarier than confronting a Basilisk, mind you - opening your own and looking into theirs in real life?

How do you deal with the fact that all that cuddling and snuggling with them doesn't help the matter anymore than a gasoline poured in a blaze of fire?

How do you deal with the fact that all of your beliefs, your entire being may be flipped _wrong_ because they are here and unknowingly making themselves home in your heart of hearts, but not quite because you - you are there, on precipice, about to fall into unknown and hanging on by latest shreds of your will as if your life depended on it?

You don't. And you do. _Somehow._ Smiling and joking and snarking as usual, playing the oblivious doofus and praying to all that's holy they wouldn't notice you making goo-goo eyes at them. Or at least, that was Harry's strategy, which was increasingly hard to hold onto ever since their confrontation of that strange entity that attempted to curse them.

But if he let o even for a moment, they would've scented his weakness like sharks fresh blood in the water and then they would pounce and Harry wasn't prepared to deal with that kind of clusterfuck fallout in any way, shape or form.

Yes, he was a coward. But he was a coward who was alive and with his friends, and that ought to count for something, right?

 _(But…. What if…?)_

Nope. No. _Not_ going there, especially not now. Harry shook his head to center himself once again before interrupting his friends' bicker-fest, with a fond and exasperated smile on his lips.

Honestly, those two were utter and complete _dorks._

 _(And Harry kind of loved them for it.)_

Ignoring the heavy weight pressing insistently onto his shoulders and the equally bad feeling in his gut _(somethingwillgowrongwrong_ _ **wrong**_ _soon_ _),_ he strode toward Soichiro, intent to helping him to prepare picnic food.

* * *

They were on top of the mountain now, and Fon was practically buzzing with impatience. They were here, and now, the only thing to do, was to wait time out.

He ignored Reborn's looks at him, or even Skull edging as far away from his as he could. Thankfully, Luce had ceased hounding him for conversation, seemingly resolving herself to do it after the fact.

Mammon was as unflappable as always, and Lal looked just impatient and absolutely done with the affair. Considering she was a former soldier this had to have been grating on her, all those weeks of missions with completely random and seemingly disconnected goals to be done. Fon was glad the woman was leaving him alone, no harping at him about this or that like she used to do before. Fon's temper was on a hair trigger as it were, and one wrong move, one wrong step, and Lal would've been burnt to a crisp.

Lal may have been the strongest Rain, but Fon had miles of experience in Flames, and while her Flames could potentially freeze out his own, the natural corrosive of Fon's own Storm would've felled her flimsy defenses in a jiffy.

"Excellent; all of you have come in one piece."

That smarmy voice caused Fon to grit his teeth. It was the voice of the person who had gone to great trouble to make sure Fon participated in this sham of… whatever it was.

 _Strongest Seven._ That was a _gǒushǐ_ if Fon ever heard it. But with Checkerface's persuasiveness on the issue, Fon couldn't help but join the insanity parade as it were.

If Fon had known he would've been tethered to that weak Sky, and unable to Court his own properly because of it, he would've rendered the smarmy, white-skinned _húndàn_ into smithereens, no questions asked.

But this was already a water under bridge, a chance passed away. But, Fon swore to himself he won't ever be such a fool again.

"Of course." Luce nodded at the man demurely, and Fon had to restrain himself not to curse out both of them. Keeping an implacable face on was getting an exercise in patience an restrain, so much harder when he was barely off age and his Flames raging out and about him in destructive dance, goading and being triggered by the slightest switch of his emotions.

"Did you doubt the Great Skull?" Oh, _great,_ here came Skull with his _braggadocio._ Fon hurriedly snuffed out the tiny amount of Strom Flame that gathered at the tips of his fingers, ready willing and able to be shaped in mini Storm Dragon and launched at the annoyance to change it into a lifeless husk… of nothing.

"Hurry up, I don't have all day." Lal's imperious tones were contrarily to his feelings toward woman a balsam for Fon's ears, because at least in that, the two were of the same thought. This farce had already gone on for too long, and both of them wanted to return back to their ordinary lives as it were.

" _Mou._ I expect my payment before this little operation would be done and over with." Of course, the greedy miser had money in their brain. _Why-ever_ would Fon think that little tidbit would ever change?

" _Chaos."_ Oh? Reborn was not talkative today? That was kind of surprising, but on the other thought, maybe not.

"Can we get over with it already? I have projects to do and theories to test." Yup, Verde was being his cranky self. As usual.

With each complaint voiced, Checkerface's mouth tilted in in an amused smirk, further irritating all of the present, with exception of Luce.

The Giglio Nero Sky was quiet and subdued, probably exhausted from the trip if she couldn't manage one of her refreshingly comforting smiles she usually doled out to everyone.

"But of course." The man purred out and Fon hated - no, outright _loathed_ that smug voice with the passion of thousand suns. "Go stand at the stone plates, marked with your signs."

That made all of them look down to their feet, and true, there were plates marked with signs of their respective elements, all of them interconnected in one giant circle. The plates were old and worn, the carved in signs barely visible, and Fon had to wonder how many people had stood there to grasp the glory of being the strongest within their hands.

… and the darker voice within his brain mused, why were they never heard of after it.

His stomach clenched with unease, but Fon quelled it down, firmly telling himself he just had to get over with it and then, he would, once again, be free to pursue the precious jade that was his Sky.

They shuffled to their respective plates - Reborn slinking along like a jungle cat, Skull stumbling here and there, Luce had already stood on hers, so she didn't need to move, and Verde switched with Fon, grumbling all the way about the entire thing being illogical and surely Verde could do it better –

When they finished, each of them stood on the plate, corresponding to their Flame element, looking at each other, at a loss what was about to happen.

"Are you prepared?" Checkerface inquired his voice oily and slick with a touch of heaviness and power behind the words.

"Yes." Luce answered, a small, fragile smile twisting her lips as she looked from one Element to another. Fon avoided her eyes, causing her smile to drop, but pick up once again, when she looked at Checkerface.

Checkerface gave up a sharp nod and he began to chant, white fire rising from his body and moving over to his cane, from which it shot into the carved out circle, moving from one person to another, beginning with Skull and ending with Luce, with Fon being third to last.

Everything was still, not even a breeze moved as this strange blue fire licked through the circle, seemingly beckoning their own individual flames into it and beginning to wheel and mix them within itself, the light becoming brighter and brighter, with all the shades of rainbow mixed in like some kind of an white opal, binding them together, and Fon's eyes were becoming heavy and muscles relaxing, loosening because _just half an hour_ and he would be _free_ –

-But then, a sharp spike of pain jarred him out of the tranquility he had almost dozed into, and the circle that was previously soothing white opal was darkening becoming that of a black opal, dark and menacing and _wrong,_ and the more it darkened, the more Fon felt pain escalating until it became almost unbearable in its intensity. He tried to concentrate, but when one felt like a spike of molten iron was rammed through the spine, there was no helping but to open his eyes.

In Lal's place, there was a young blond man with bright blue eyes in camouflage uniform, his pain-sweaty face cast in stubborn lines as he tried not to shout with agony and Fon could appreciate the fools' courage, but his attention was drawn to the three - no, _four_ \- additional forms in the circle and his blood practically froze in horror before he frantically tried to move, to shout to do _anything_ to get his Sky out of this cursed circle.

Three of the forms encircled the last one in a triangle, all of them forced to kneel when the now black energy speared through them, until it converged on the very familiar one kneeling in the very center of the circle with a blinding black and white flash –

-and then, they were _gone._

 _Gone_. Just like that. As if they never existed to begin with.

As if _his Sky_ never _existe_ d to begin with.

And Fon - Fon could do _nothing_. He had been forced to just _stand_ here and _watch_ how his Sky was practically _tortured_ – it was bad enough when this tainted energy had gone through Fon and Fon was no slouch when it came to bearing physical pain - but then, when this energy was done with them, it turned onto the newcomers, amplified seven-fold and more before finally reaching to Harry and destroying him, leaving Fon utterly and irrevocably alone once again.

There was a roar - a roar so monstrous even Fon himself would've been terrified to hear, and Fon didn't know where he found strength to rip himself off the plate he stood on and launched himself at Luce and Checkerface, intent to annihilate both of them, his Storm Flames howling about him like mortally wounded ancient beast keening the loss of his most precious possession.

He had to look like a monster, a beast, a complete demon from the deepest parts of hell, what with his braid undone and eyes wild with grief and fury, and his Flames completely unchecked and yet intent to do only one deed , wreathing him in their brilliance and destroying all on their path –

Luce screamed as she backed away, her eyes wide with terror, and then, there was another Flame, this time yellow one, crossing his path and dimly, Fon heard Reborn shouting something at the others, and then, there were other Flames - _chains_ \- chains of Flames – _violet, blue, green, purple_ \- , biting into his own, despite his Storm Flames corroding them as soon as they latched on his own, but those chains, as weak as they were, were numerous and coming again and again and again, twining and combining and being bolstered with that disgusting _Sky_ Flame combined with something _old_ and _**heavy**_ and Fon almost had her - had _them_ , his Flames bit into her hand like vicious beast, voraciously searing it and vanishing it at once – but Fon's body was at its limits, what with the ordeal it had been through and with the weight of so many Flame Chains clawing down on his own Flames, his knees slowly bucked and gave up and Fon finally knew nothing – that gaping, wide wound in the hollow of his chest where his hear should have been.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Going to the bad side of Eye of the Storm was always, always a bad decision that much Reborn knew. But he hadn't known it - not really. He had heard about the man's exploits, knew him to be the best of the best among the ones aligned with Storm Flames and he grudgingly respected the man for it - but he never, ever felt such a profound terror as he had that day when Fon completely snapped._

 _This whole Strongest Seven business was bad from the get go. But he was cocky and arrogant and this would be the biggest feather in his proverbial hat because Reborn was already The Greatest Hitman and that would be just a confirmation of the fact._

 _They didn't get the Sky. Of course, their Sky - so-called_ Sky _\- was strong. Nobody could say Luce was weak and even Reborn was tempted to surrender and claim her as his own Sky, just like Fon._

 _But of course Fon had to find out his own Sky and spurn Luce's Courting. Not that he judged Fon for his actions - Luce already had her Guardians, and if there was one impossible dream for Flame wielders anywhere - was to have their own Sky, to be their Sky's Guardians._

 _And Fon was so close, so fucking_ close _Reborn could almost taste it. That little green-eyed brat Fon had cuddled with in that park was Fon's Sky, and Reborn never, ever saw Fon as content as he had been then._

 _However, his Sky had been taken away from him and Fon could only watch. No wonder the usually calm and composed man snapped like iron string, lashing out at the two culprits in question. Checkerface escaped seemingly unscathed, never to be seen ever since. Luce, however, suffered the loss of her hand to her elbow before Mammon and that new brat - Collonello? - could stop the corrosive Flames from eating through the flesh and bone._

 _His fury was terrifying, and Reborn had nightmares about being trapped in those blazing Storm Flames even now._

 _When Fon's Flames, even as exhausted as they were, unfurled from the shell-shocked, grieving, furious Chinese martial artist, it was like standing too close to the sun, the Flames scorching, clawing and snapping without prejudice, and only Reborn's quick thinking and foreknowledge what exactly had made the man snap, prevented them all from becoming corpses._

 _As exhausted as Reborn was - this interruption -_ corruption _\- whatever it_ was _– had been_ excruciating _and sapped his Flames like crazy – he forced himself to raise them to match Fon's monstrous output while hurriedly calling out to others to do the same in an effort to subdue the raging Storm within her midst. They almost hadn't succeeded because of Fon's adverse reaction to Luce's Sky Flames - Fon's Storm ones completely brutalized them, and it would take Giglio Nero's Sky a long time to recover from both Flame Burn and loss of her hand. As it was, even if Fon was classified as an Arcobaleno, he excommunicated himself out of Luce's Sky with an extreme prejudice._

 _Fon's eyes, usually gentle with a hint of mischief, were now dull and empty, a pair of black glasses instead of lively irises they usually sported. The Storm Arcobaleno didn't even seem to care he'd been changed into a baby form after his outburst (all of them except of Luce had been thrust in that…_ unfortunate _situation), sitting at the window like a lifeless doll and cuddling his animal partner. The tiny white monkey was Fon's sole solace in those dark days that seemed to stretch into infinity..._


	54. Chapter 54

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not _ooown_. How many times should I have to write these words! It's getting depressing, honestly!

 _ **Shout Out:**_ It's beginning to get messy, considering Harry's Luck, which ought to have been inherited from Lancers everywhere and anytime. Because it's just _that_ bad. Never fear, KHR 'verse will come back, after a fact. But for now, let's mess with Unholy Grail War to out hearts' content, shall we?

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ -verse on multiple scales, multiple perspectives (yeah, my bad), Consequences Of A Failed ( _ **NOT**_ ) Ritual ahoy and sanity is going bye-bye. The question remains, whose sanity…

 _ **Dictionary:**_ _bambina senza cuore_ (Italian) - soulless girl, a girl without soul

 _Yamada Taro_ \- a Japanese equivalent to John Doe or an unknown person when in hospital or as a victim on murder scene.

* * *

 _I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed  
I'm back on boogie street  
You lose your grip, and then you slip  
Into the masterpiece_

( _'A Thousand Kisses Deep',_ by Leonard Cohen)

* * *

His return to consciousness was painfully slow. It felt like he had been hit with a hammer on all the sides mercilessly and then pushed through straw at the same time as he had been twisted, torn apart and then mashed together into a semblance of his previous self.

Everything hurt. His brain felt shattered and turned into mulch at the same time. There was a cold concrete underneath his cheek, wherever he had landed after… whatever they had been pulled into.

There were distant noises of cars and people walking through the streets, an annoying, even if at same strangely comforting buzz to his ears. Something familiar. He didn't want to move, but his nose crinkled at some of the more unpleasant scents wafting around.

 _Waste and rotten fish._ His stomach roiled as he perceived the smells and … _urgh._ Luckily - or not - he hadn't puked in this strange journey to… wherever he had been chucked.

Even opening his eyelids proved to be a massive chore, as if they had been made from lead unwilling to let him see the place he had found himself in. But the unforgivably cold concrete underneath his body felt unpleasant enough to warrant him to do at least _something._

Mind still blank and curiously free of whatever memories he had about _Before,_ he forced his eyes to open as the putrid air surrounding him had been sucked into his lungs.

Green eyes blankly regarded the alley their owner had found himself in. At first, nothing registered. The gray, mucked concrete, some dumpsters and a scruffy black alley cat staring at him indifferently, its tail swishing hither and thither, as if annoyed it found an intruder in what it deemed to be its territory.

Green eyes looked into greenish gold ones, the two being staring at each other for an indeterminate time. Human and animal. Cat and man.

Suddenly, the cat's head swiveled to its right to what it ought to be an entrance to the alley. Fine black hair puffed out as it hissed like a snake at the second intruder, but not moving an inch from its position.

Whatever the intruder was, it moved heavily and awkwardly, their clothes scraping against the walls, the _thud-thuds_ of its steps tired and weary.

He ought to move, but his body didn't. _Couldn't._ The cat growled, a low, dangerous sound as it bristled even more, its ears tilted back in annoyance when this… Person? Animal? Advanced on, without regard to its warnings.

The last sight bleary green eyes saw, was a mix of shadows topped with white.

* * *

He hadn't thought there would be anyone else in this particular alley, as abandoned and dirty as it was. Because of that it was an ideal place for him to rest and rethink his opinions after his flight from the mansion.

He should have known that this worm's offer had been too good to be true. Should have known the bastard would've broken his oaths when it suited him. But foolish as he was, he had trusted the man because of his little girl.

Since he had returned to the mansion, everything had gone to the dogs. Or, in his case, worms.

He ground his teeth together to the point of feeling a physical pain with how taut were his jaw muscles.

And of course, that shitty Grail War. If it weren't for Sakura, he would've wished himself back to the beginning and straight out murdered the idiots who had thought it out… after torturing them a little. Well not a little, a lot and -

Dull mismatched eyes looked onto the human-shaped mess on the floor. Whoever the poor bastard was, they surely had a bad luck tonight. But his sight was caught by the said poor bastard's eyes and he received a shock of his life.

Green eyes. Familiar green eyes - and now, when he concentrated, this person was familiar - no, not familiar, he definitely knew them!

But this was impossible. And yet, it _happened_ and maybe he was bad enough to have hallucinations now, but -

The worms' gnawing had _stopped._ They never stopped. _Never._  
Except when he had had that bracelet -

His hand unconsciously reached for his left wrist, and he feared what he would find there just as he fervently hoped what he _wouldn't._

Cold fingers touched the unmarked skin and touch-gained knowledge thundered through his head.

 _This was not a dream. This was not illusion._ This was - a freezing cold jolt of lightning bolted through his body as he remembered just what exactly was happening in the city now - this was a _nightmare._

He felt his knees giving out from underneath him, causing him to unceremoniously crash on the concrete but in his shock he barely felt any pain. He hurriedly dragged himself - as much as he could - to the heap in front of him, his heart going mile a minute, feeling as if he couldn't breathe. Trembling fingers touched the pallid cheek of the person lying in front of him and gods, it was him, just like Kariya had remembered him to look like from ten years ago.

He distantly heard the cat's annoyed yowl before it scampered away, too busy with staring at the person in front of him.

By blessing or by curse, after ten years, Harry was finally back with him.

* * *

He woke up with a splitting headache. Going through the meat grinder would have been kinder in that instance. His body sent him all the signs for imminent shutdown, and if he would've been anyone else, he would've succumbed to the agony.

But he was _Emiya_ -fucking- _Kiritsugu_ , Magus Killer extraordinaire and Harry's Guardian; there was no fucking way he would be overcome by only tiny itty bitty bit of an agony searing through his nerves. Honestly, only his experience with Emiya Crest halted him not to scream out with pain and where the fuck was he _again?_

It was cold. He shivered, and only then, he noticed that his clothes - or lack of them - was a little bit concerning. Also, the colors were all wrong. Instead of warm, slightly breezy, but mostly sunny morning, he found himself in what seemed to be Satan's tight asshole, so cold it was in Kiritsugu's not so humble opinion, not to mention the oncoming darkness. Slowly, he rose himself into a sitting position, uncomfortably aware of being in a foreign place without weapons and without tiniest shred of knowledge what the _fuck_ was going on.

And he was _naked._ Naked, like on the day he was born, lying somewhere on the grass - _small mercies_ \- and by his hearing there was a river flowing by. As if the day hadn't gone to the shit deep enough yet, there, standing in front of him, stood a woman clad in blue dress with some kind of an armor, her long blond hair tied in braid that was pulled into a bun on the top of her head with some strands around her face. Green eyes, so similar to Harry's looked at him steadily while her hands rested on the pommel of her sword, while she gazed on his naked form.

"I ask thee. Art thou mine Master?"

Black and green eyes bore into each other. Kiritsugu dearly wanted to groan. His right hand twanged and upon seeing the winged emblem on it, he _did_ groan. What a _splendid_ first-time introduction to his Servant this was. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he resisted the temptation of flopping into the grass and maybe rolling into river to drown alongside his misery. Instead, he groaned.

"Fuck. Me. I am." And wasn't that just a _doozy?_

He didn't need to look up to see Servant's scandalous glare at his person.

That. Was not his day. But he wouldn't mind if that shitty priest found himself in a similar position to his for a change.

* * *

Kotomine Kirei, much to Kiritsugu's most fervent wishes, found himself in much more dignified pose. Apparently he had been found unconscious on the sidewalk by a passerby good Samaritan and placed in hospital as Yamada Taro until they found out his true name… or at least someone that could take care of him.

As such, he found himself in thin hospital gown in a bed and for some reason, every half an hour, there was a nurse asking him if he was feeling well and if he needed tea or something to eat or… something.

His body felt as if he had gone through the Executor training and trials multiple times at the same instance, mentally and physically, the pains echoing through his muscles and nerves still, despite his discreet use of Sun Flames to speed up his body's healing. Though, in the process, he found out three a little bit unpleasant facts and one very concerning question.

One, he was low on Sun Flames. Scratch that, his Mist Flames were equally as low, and if it weren't for Kirei's proficiency in sensing Flames, he wouldn't have even known that something was amiss. That was problem number one.

Problem number two was a little bit more concerning.

Kirei had gotten _tall_. As in, had grown up. Overnight. Not that he wasn't tall _before_ , but almost two inches (five centimeters) overall, was a little bit had to swallow, especially because it threw his natural equilibrium out of whack, which was a very annoying consequence. There was also the matter of overreaching for things like a glass of water or shampoo and the worst of it all, the gown on him was annoyingly short for his tastes. Not that he was ashamed of his body, never that, but the gown was still annoying short and in some respects, annoyingly _tight_ on his body. Every time he asked nurses if they have bigger size, they informed him, with blushes and giggles that no, there wasn't any bigger size. But Kirei had seen some - let's say _, big-boned_ old man, and the said old man definitely had on his body at least three sizes bigger than his own, so the nurses were definitely dirty little liars on the subject… if their giggles were telling anything.

So Kirei was stuck in a clingy little blue gown in a non-descriptive hospital with nurses that were all too gleeful to watch his misery when he tried to play catch up with both his reflexes and body. The food was predictably… bland, and at times, he thought that even concrete would have more taste than the gruel he was forced to swallow down his gullet.

Problem number three was a little bit harder, but nothing Kirei couldn't deal with, if given time and resources enough.

The burning hot question, on the other hand, sent all the alarms blaring through his mind.

If Kirei was here, and if he had gone through the sipping straw from Hell along with others - then where were they and most importantly, in what kind of state?

* * *

Xanxus, on the other hand, glared at the soulless little girl in front of him, barely managing himself from not outright throttling her.

Sure, he had a headache from hell and his Flames were down for the count (when he found the culprit, he would skewer them alive the slowest, most painful way possible), but he was safe, sane and wholly pissed off.

"Who the fuck are you and where the hell is Irisviel?" He barked out as he aggressively stepped closer to the girl in an effort to intimidate her.

The _bambina senza cuore_ didn't say anything. She was clad in simple knee length violet dress with a violet braid on the side in her dark hair. Her eyes were the deepest aquamarine, which would in other circumstance be beautiful but with her being a little more than a wooden doll, they fell flat of their beauty.

Slowly, she tilted her head as she looked at the seething red-eyed boy in front of her.

"Welcome to Matou mansion." She intoned, her fragile voice akin to a scalpel-sharp, thin dagger, echoing through the corridor surrounding the two of them.

If she could find any feelings within herself, she would have pitied her grandfather's newest, if unexpected, guests.

* * *

Kuzuki Soichiro was not a happy camper. Whoever had that stupid idea to surprise Harry with the surprise picnic, Soichiro swore he would find them and drew and quartered them before feeding them Mapo Tofu, Hell version. Never mind the tact he was out of the said dish at the moment and he had made a mess out of what he presumed to be a demonic ritual. Or something like that.

His jaw clenched at the memory of helpless child having been brutally murdered by that strange duo of the man in billowing cloak with strangely waxy-looking skin and bulbous eyes along with a thin redhead with cruel black eyes.

It was too little and too late – what with him trying to regain his own sense of place and time he could just stand in the corner and watch the premeditated murder that strange beast had commenced on the taller man's order.

Their gleeful laughter grated on his very last nerve, making him wish all the more to retaliate against the duo in the name of their victim. However, his assassin mindset prevailed over his sense of justice.

There would be time and there would be place to hunt and destroy those two monsters in human flesh.

But first, he had to find information and most importantly, get some clothes. He suppressed a shiver with an ease of a long practice as he noiselessly vanished into the closest shadow, as if he hadn't ever been here to begin with.

* * *

A slender hand reached to the throbbing temple while its owner quietly hissed to himself, annoyed with the pain underneath it.

Slim eyebrows furrowed as green eyes closed again.

This was bull-fucking _-shit._ He really shouldn't have done the stupid, as he termed his latest exploit, but what was done was done, and hopefully he would find some answers out of this fucking War before it ended.

Ten years. Ten long, frickin' _years,_ trying to get things moving ahead and what he had to _show_ for it?

 _Nothing._ A torn thesis, idiots' mockery and his own mentor disparaging his idea as a far-fetched and unbelievable despite his own research on the issue. The prick _. King_ of pricks, actually. Never mind the fact he had lost contact with his benefactor the same year he had entered the Clock Tower. He had been grateful for advice he had received, though. If he hadn't met his benefactor, he would've been off much, much worse. But having been forewarned he had managed to avoid some pretty dangerous _faux-pas_ as time went on. It had also brought to him the attention of his not-so-dearly-missed mentor, however much he regretted it in the end.

But now - he swallowed thickly as he eyed the bag on his knees – now the time for regrets has passed. Now, he was prepared to gamble his everything to find the only family he had gotten to know and spent that miraculous summer in Italy with ten years ago.

Because if the Holy Grail itself didn't have any answers, then who would?

The ley lines beneath the city began to hum in recognition of the ancient ritual imposed onto them. Invisible to human eyes, they glowed whitish blue and gold periodically, as if an enormous beast was breathing under the hills, coiling around and through them in what would some say was an almost thoughtless manner.

The entire web began to glow brighter, concentrated on some points where the power spiked through and then subsided, dipping back into the lines obediently after having finished its mission of connecting the material with spiritual world for a shortest moment, allowing those chosen souls to pass through.

All the players were finally gathered in one place; the game could finally start and play out, like the masterpiece it was designed to be. The cold wind blew through the lonely streets, winging through them like invisible, ominous scarf as it briskly curled around the curves and corners of the buildings, blowing and tumbling about stray leaves, heedless of changes to come.

And the world shuddered.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

" _You fucked up" Reborn's voice was cold and clinical as he stared Luce down, dismissing the white-haired man sitting in the corner of the room as inconsequential._

 _The Giglio Nero Sky 's eyes were wide, dark eyelashes clumped and wet with tears as she tried to hold the pain that throbbed from the stump where her hand used to be._

" _But I don't understand." Her voice was tight and she looked even tinier in that wide expanse of a bed she was tucked in, courtesy of her Guardians, her face just as pale as the show white sheets she was laying upon, the only color to enliven the stark whiteness was piped orange border of the covers. Her squirrel nuzzled under her chin, chirping at her in what seemed to be a comforting manner, but to no avail._

 _Reborn was standing on her bed and it should have been funny, to see the baby in a tiny suit with even tinier fedora and the tiniest possible chameleon riding his shoulder, but it wasn't. The pacifier resting on his chest gleamed with the Sun Flames, reacting to Luce's own pacifier, but in contrast to before, those warm yellow Flames were keeping to themselves, which was a sure sign she had lost Reborn's trust._

 _(She didn't know just how much would she_ miss _Reborn's Flames sliding against her own, until she lost that privilege that disastrous day when everything that could've gone wrong had happened in what seemed to be a blink of time.)_

 _Baby soft lips curled into a disapproving frown as those beetle-black eyes stared into her own unflinchingly._

" _You took away his Sky." He spoke those five words slowly as if condemning her and in a way, he was. Luce flinched away from them, but they echoed in her head, swirling from one to another, tumbling and shaking in her consciousness and seeping into her Flames that practically wilted into themselves with shame and remorse._

" _After that last mission -" Reborn continued, his voice toneless as he narrated the story,"- Fon had hoped to Court his Sky. He had known that you weren't the one – " Luce's eyes lowered to the single hand gripping the covers in her lap. "- Because you already had your Guardians. Nevertheless, he had met his Sky along the way and he was biding his time to do things properly." Luce bit her lip, now feeling even guiltier than before._

 _Even if poaching Guardians from Skies was not that unheard of in mafia, it was just that -_ poaching _. May the best Sky win and all that. But encroaching on a Courting Element was a whole other no-no ballgame._

 _Her eyes glazed when she remembered Fon changing into an absolute, desperate monster in an effort to reach that slender silhouette in the middle of that cursed circle._

" _You knew?" She whispered, her throat tightening around the words like a sound-shaped noose, ready to murder that tiny bit of hope she still cradled in the deepest, most hidden chamber of her heart._

 _Reborn let out a noise of assent. "And what was more; Harry could've been a good match for him. In fact, I've never seen Fon as free and relaxed than when he had been just then, sitting under the tree and cuddling Harry." Elegant black eyebrows twitched with remembered annoyance at the sequence of happenings that followed that cute scene and Harry's extremely uncute Storm/Cloud Guardian._

" _Harry?" The man in the corner of the room spoke out, his dark eyes intent, and dare Reborn think,_ desperate?

" _Who else?" Reborn's counter-question may as well be an atomic bomb of sound thrown directly into the man's paling face. "Did you think that Fon was trying to get out of the circle to him for shit and giggles?"_

" _Trying?" Luce didn't know, but she had a bad feeling about that single word even when she mouthed it out._

" _Yes. Somehow, he and his Guardians had been drawn into the circle – "_

 _The chair screeched on the floor as the white-haired man jumped up. "That's_ impossible!" _he barked out with a sharp voice, but his wide eyes betrayed just how rattled he was._

 _Reborn wanted to raise his eyebrows at the man's uncharacteristic behavior. Probably one more person that got connected to Harry's Flames? Letting out a small hum at this newest puzzle, he tilted his fedora to the man._

" _I was told that he and his bunch specialize in impossible."_


	55. Chapter 55

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own those characters. They just visit my playground when they are tired of being in canon stories.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Y'all can thank this little tidbit of a song for this story to drag itself out of its self-imposed hibernation caused by monster called The Work at my job.

 _ **Warnings:** __**AU**_ on multiple scales, manly squeaks of not so adorable variety and Harry being his scary self because he's a mama bear. And further fallout on Arcobaleno side of things. I am half-tempted to dedicate next chapter to that particular disaster in the motion because _Fon_. What do you say? Yay or nay?

* * *

 _Here, where the sky's falling_

 _I'm covered in blue_

 _I'm running and I'm crawling_

 _Fighting for you_

 _When the rain stops_

 _Then, darling, what will I do_

 _And I know I go all in_

 _But why do I_

( _"Homesick"_ by _Dua Lipa_ )

* * *

The rain had been coming down for a week already, which was unusual, given how the weathermen had predicted a streak of good weather for at least two weeks. However, their optimistic predictions had been turned on their proverbial heads, what with the light drizzle in the evening, which from then on strengthened into a rain and occasional downpour. Some people even joked that if this continued on, their town ought to have been renamed into Little London, to mirror the weather conditions over its supposed big brother city.

The pitter-patter of drops coming down from the edge of the roof was a direct opposite to murmur of downpour hailing down from the sky. The place itself was more of a hole in a wall than being anything even remotely livable - there was tin roof, the walls were constructed out of carton boxes, and the floor itself had been covered with half-soggy newspapers in the places where roof was leaky, with the exception of a small - tiny, really – place when a mockery of futon had been rolled out with its occupant snoozing on it, their face unconsciously turned to the weak warmth of the tiny fire waving up and about from its place in the rusted tin basin on the left side of the futon, it's feeble light stretching and shrinking the shadows on the sleeping person's pale face hither and thither.

There was a rustle of both plastic and paper, a little bit louder as the newcomer stumbled into the shelter, their distinctive white hair half- hidden under the cover of his hoodie in an attempt to either hide its color or protect its wearer from the elements, no matter how pathetic the attempt was against the heaven-sent deluge running through the streets. The newcomer panted with effort, barely holding themselves back not to cough in order to not wake up the one sleeping in the futon.

A thin hand pulled the hood off, revealing a pale, sunken face of a man with one dark and one pallid, blank eye. The man awkwardly bent down to put the plastic bag on the side, before hissing with pain as he forced himself to kneel down in front of the sleeping one, not minding dirty water soiling his jeans one bit.

"Sorry, it's the best I can do at the moment's notice." He spoke with a hoarse voice that croaked at moments like overused, too dry leather. Thin lips quirked into a self-deprecating smirk that flattened into a grim line just as soon as it dared to show some of its merrier qualities, but the eyes never left the sleeping person's face.

The sleeping person was a teen with a messy dark hair and thin, almost unnoticeable scar in the shape of a jagged S crowning his brow. The teen was a lot better looking than his white-haired companion, even if still a little bit too pale for anyone's taste. His face had distinctly European cast, what with the shape of his eyes and cheekbones, which was in a direct contrast with his savior's narrow eyes and skin, hued like aged papyrus, due to how sickly the man was. Thad boded the question just how had those two different people themselves together and what were the circumstances leading to such an occasion.

Slowly, gently, almost reverently, the man touched the teen's skin, even now barely daring to believe that at long last, he had found his most precious person again, even if the circumstances leading to their meeting were less than ideal.

"Hey, wake up soon." The man's Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Since you have come here, there's no way I'd allow you to play a slowpoke to your heart's leisure. You did promise me I could show you the place where I live, didn't you?"

The one those gentle words were intended for, furrowed his eyebrows, as if unhappy with the words before burying the head into the skin of man's hand, effectively stealing limb for his own makeshift pillow, thus startling the man into a soft, if raspy chuckle at his unconsciously grumpy gesture.

* * *

Waking up from … unconsciousness was a process. First, the darkness in front of his eyes. Then, the feel of fabric on his body, unfamiliar and at times scratchy. Third, there was a draft somewhere, reminding him of those cool mornings at his school in the early autumn at its onset to colder temperatures which would, day or two later, result into a thin cover of frost everywhere. Fourth, there was a scent of wet paper, damp concrete and fire, intermixed with the all too familiar scent of garbage. His body itself ached like it used to after all that mess with Chamber, or after than unfortunate meeting with Dementors. His right hand throbbed, a steady ebb and flow of pain synchronized with his heartbeat.

And yet, despite being in an unfamiliar situation, he felt curiously calm. Rationally speaking, he shouldn't have been, there had to be some kind of danger preying upon him around the corner, but right this moment, he didn't give a damn. He was in a strange place, fine. There was a rain outside, fine. His friends were somewhere, also fine. He didn't care. Aside the mild aches, his body felt fine, even if strangely dissociated from recent happenings.

He felt his heartbeat pick up as he woke up further, his mind digging into memories what had happened to him to have found himself in this curiously comfortable and strangely familiar situation.

 _Picnic_. One word appeared in his mind, and for a moment, he examined it, allowing himself to taste it, it's shape, weight and angles. The word became brighter, clearer, and then, there was _Italy._ Those two interconnected. _Picnic in Italy._ And then, those two stars created a galaxy of other subjects, things and feelings, like some kind of a spider's net, reaching for and tying the loose ends together.

And then, there were faces. _Kirei, Kerry, Soichiro. Xanxus…. Iri._ And… that sense of weird _suction-push-pull-_ _ **twist**_ from one location to another, being pressed down in some kind of a circle and then those bright spears of energy going into Kirei and Kiritsugu before exiting their bodies and slamming into him –

' _That was how exploding one's own body ought to have felt.'_ He mused, strangely detached from reality, but there was a niggling feeling or something budding behind his rib cage.

And he had survived. ' _Big bang, eh?'_ An experimental inhale - deeper, this one - of the air surrounding him. Same stale, familiar yet strange scents wafting around.

Okay. He could deal with it.

His eyelids peeled themselves upward, slowly and carefully, as if the tiniest wrong moment would've meant an irreparable damage. He saw the roof, a mixture of plastic, tin and cartons in a weird mix'n'match, but strangely organic all the same, the tin reflecting firelight down in dull flashes that stretched or shrunk, depending on the angle of the rood in question.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a great smoky thing with red light shining from the eye-crack of the visor and there was an equally glowing blue ribbon coming from the top of the helmet before darkening into dark violet end carelessly placed somewhere at his left wrist - tantalizingly close, but not touching. Never touching.

It was obscured, as if trying to hide, yet the bulky thing had been sitting beside him patiently, as if chained there, even if he got a feeling the thing would've rather it slunk into the deepest shadows than be there in any way, shape or form. It shouldn't have even fit into the tiny shack, but somehow, it did, despite of its largeness, even if much of it had been shrouded with the shadows and scentless black smoke.

Red and green stared into each other, as if hypnotized. And he couldn't help himself, what with the strangely glowing color - it was really pretty blue, and he was still muddle-headed anyway.

It took only that one tiny moment, but he touched that ethereally blue and violet ribbon. It was like touching that blue fire when he had gone through the cursed door in search of the Stone, here, but insubstantial aside the faint feeling that there was something to hold onto, as elusive as morning dawn or evening's birdsong.

The mass stiffened as it tried to get away from him, the clawed hand reaching forward to remove the fragile human hand off the ribbon, only to stop before actually touching that all to warm and fragile skin beneath the ephemeral claws, undecided if to go through with its panicked intent to tear that hand off of the ribbon or –

Green eyes stared at the monster as the captor's hand released its prize, letting it rest on the palm gently as if it were a precious drop of water. A small smile appeared on the teen's face, tired and bleary, those unusual green eyes alight with bemused warmth.

Now, that wasn't fair. It ought to have torn that fragile human hand off of its ribbon, snarl at it and break the human in question in some very bloody pieces for daring to touch him so brazenly, without any permission or ounce of fear.

Yet the shadow curled into itself, a human-shaped metal hedgehog, its armor full of spikes that should have enticed terror in the teen that was lying on the cot, but instead, it earned itself a bemused glance, as if it were a mere grasshopper on the stalk.

He felt the half-shadow-half-monster quiver - not that he had been touching it, but the strange, substance-less ribbon laying in the small cup of his palm trembled ever so slightly, more of a twitch than anything else.

"Hey." The feeble sound croaked out of his throat, old and dry like aged, untreated leather, making him wince as it slithered through his voice chords.

It made the shadow, for the lack of better word, bristle at him, but he was apparently either too courageous or infinitely foolish, not dreading what could happen if one tiny thing had gone wrong - there was _steel, darkness_ and _despair,_ so _much_ of it -

"Name?"

Despite having its visor on, the shadow made an appropriate equivalent of its' eyes bugging out of its' skull, such disbelief rang through its posture.

And not only that.

It… _Squeaked._

Something so big and monstrous… _squeaked_. Like a puppy. If the puppy in question were a hell-hound, considering the growling- screechy quality of the squeak that made the teen wince. But still, the fact remained, it _squeaked._

Maybe his reason had gone bye-bye permanently, but one Harry James Potter thought that the thing, even as scary as it was, shouldn't have been completely bad if it squeaked, no matter how bad the squeak in question was.

* * *

Much to the thing's relief, Harry's energy reserve was too low to stay up for much longer after his attempt to speak to itself, because it apparently took the chance to hightail out of the shelter while Harry was asleep, and when the wizard woke up again, it was to a white-haired man cooking what seemed to be noodles in a tiny pot above the fire.

He must have made some noise as the man's head whipped to him, dual colored eyes on scarred, thin face looking into his own green ones.

"You are awake." The man's hoarse voice felt an infinite relief as he clumsily moved to place the small pot on the floor to reach over and feel Harry's forehead.

Harry allowed him to do so, considering the look in the man's eyes. Even as dull as they were, there was something honest in them and this face was a little bit familiar. Harry frowned. He was sure he hadn't met this person before, because he would've surely remembered anyone with such distinctive characteristic as him.

" _Hm."_ He hummed, but still not moving a movement even as he felt the cool, smooth palm sliding from his forehead to the cheek. The more he watched the familiar stranger move, the more he suspected he had known this person.

"You don't have a fever. Good." The man murmured to him and for a moment, Harry felt a pang in his gut when he thought of Soichiro and his bedside manners, so similar to this stranger-not-stranger in front of him. But this wasn't Soichiro - Soichiro was taller and more muscular and this man looked like he had weathered through some horrifying things and came out worse on the other end than he had been when having gone in.

A tilt of head and that self-deprecating smirk -

Green eyes widened. _"Kariya!"_ Harry wanted to blurt out, but it came out like a strangled out choke, courtesy of his abused throat. The man flinched, snatching his hand away, only for Harry to catch it by the wrist, the latter still shell shocked at his discovery.

"You - it's _you,_ isn't it? Kariya?" By the gods, his throat felt like thorns clawing through it every moment he spoke, but Harry was too stubborn and too concerned to heed it.

The man's lowered eyelids and flushed cheeks against the paleness of his paper skin confirmed his hare-brained theory. This was _Kariya_ , Matou Kariya, but the man looked too old, like he had aged beyond his years, what with his sallow skin and white hair, never mind one of his eyes being milky white, a sure sign of half-blindness.

A tense silence reigned between them, only cracked apart by Kariya's mirthless chuckle. The hoodie-wearing white-haired man was such an opposite to the well-groomed one Harry had met in Italy that the green eyed wizard felt his head spin with confusion and questions running through it in a futile search for answers. What had happened? And why?

"Ah." A low, bitter chuckle. " That wasn't how I imagined us to meet again." Harry's eyes narrowed with irritation at Kariya's _non-sequitur,_ but he was interrupted from speaking up as he was offered the cup Kariya had been heating above the fire.

"Careful. It's a little hot." Harry frowned harder, and resigned to the fact he wouldn't be getting anything out of the man before complying with his unvoiced order, allowing Kariya to help him to drink the contents of the cup.

The soup slid down his throat, the first gulp was hard, both next ones eased through his throat, the warms soothing its raw nerves and Harry felt much better. Next were the noodles - chewy and slick, with pieces of vegetables thrown in and Harry's stomach roared with need, causing him to blush at Kariya's bemused eyebrow quirk.

Refusing to blush, even if his cheeks felt warm with mortification and the soup - Harry stubbornly refused to believe that he was ashamed, of all things, he stubbornly finished his meal.

Kariya's scent was that of human and crushed ladybugs, making Harry's nose wrinkle a little. Before, the scent wasn't that noticeable, but now, Kariya almost reeked of it, if one was being in close proximity with him.

"You refused to answer my question. What happened?" Green eyes bore into Kariya's own bi-colored ones.

"I could've asked the same of you." Kariya glared back, his glare all the more intimidating what with his eyes being differently colored independently of one another. "I've tried to contact you, but I had been told you weren't available." He sighed, threading a hand through his hair and Harry watched those white strands, fascinated how they seemed to be almost orange in firelight. "The short version is, ten years."

Harry's confused glance prompted Kariya to continue. "Believe it or not, it has been ten years since we last met." Deaf silence met his proclamation as Harry tried to comprehend what he had just found out.

 _Ten years._

"What the _fuck._ " Harry spoke out, his voice flat. He was a wizard, and as one, he had dealt with such strange shit on nearly daily basis since he was eleven year old, but this was a little too much to accept even for trouble magnet such as him. "Ten _years."_ He repeated Kariya's words, a little too calmly for Kariya's nerves. " _What_. Is that why are you looking like a grandpa now?"

Kariya automatically bristled out. "I am not a grandfather! I am thirty two years old!" He snapped back reflexively.

Harry eyed him, unimpressed and Kariya felt a hot flush of embarrassment shot through his body. "Fine, whatever floats your boat. But still, _what?"_

Kariya inhaled. And exhaled, apparently aggravated with Harry's obstinate behavior about the latest circumstances he had found himself in.

"Ten years ago," he began, "my mail to you was returned to me with message of no recipient having been found. I've contacted Tohsaka, who asked around, but it was like you and your family had vanished without a notice or trace. What Tohsaka did manage to find, however," Kariya's sharp eyes bore into Harry, who now felt a dread mount in his gut, "Was that ten years ago, there had been some kind of a ritual going on… and failed, by the looks of things."

Harry stared at Kariya, deep in thought, completely still, like statue. His mind, now bolstered by food and drink, flashed back to that day and the day's happenings.

Grudgingly trudging up those hills, grumbling about the cold, and suffering Xanxus making fun out of him not being a morning person, Soichiro carrying still half-snoozing Iri -

 _-them camping on the top of the hill, anticipating the morning light and then, that terrible sucking feeling crawling through his body, depositing him half sick and wholly disorientated in some kind of circle with his friends around him in triangle, with Xanxus and Iri nowhere in sight with white light slamming into him with all the force of a freight train flashing through his nerves, sinews, muscles and bones with the ferocity of a lightning -_

"When I find the bastard who had the _bright_ idea to drag me and my kids into his shitty ritual, he is _dead."_ Harry's proclamation was flatter than a board, when his brains re-processed the memory again, half in disbelief and half in resignation before horror slammed through like an airplane suddenly swerving off the course.

 _Kids._ Goddammit, his _ **kids.**_ _Xanxus. Iri._ Harry felt a jolt of pure horror condensed in a shot of ice running through his veins. Hurriedly he grabbed Kariya's shoulder, subconsciously noting the man was thinner than he ought to be. "What about my kids? Are they - are they safe?" He managed to choke out, green eyes wide with fear and remorse coursing through him.

Kariya frowned. "What are you talking about? There weren't any children present at the time."

If Harry thought he had felt fear before, it was nothing in comparison to the outright terror he felt right now.

"Are you _sure?"_ he insisted, the hand clutching at Kariya's shoulder becoming humanized claws as he dug his fingers into the flesh, causing Kariya to grimace with pain.

" _I. Am. Sure."_ Kariya ground out. "Tohsaka discreetly inquired about them, but everyone said that - "

Whatever Kariya tried to tell him, was lost to Harry as he grabbed Kariya's other hand and lifted it up, impatiently dragging the clothes up to reveal the older man's wrist, only for his face to fall in disappointment when the wrist in question proved to be completely bare. Green eyes widened with shock and then narrowed with fury.

"Where is your wristband?" Harry rounded at Kariya, causing the man to hurriedly backpedal away from the incensed wizard. Or would have had, if Harry didn't have an iron hold on his wrist now.

Kariya cringed.

* * *

Standing at the window, Kirei stared outside, his eyes dark and fathomless as he contemplated his next move.

The room was dull, all cream walls with blue tiles on the floor, the beds uniformly away from one another, and right now, Kirei was the sole occupant of it. Not that he minded, but he was all the more surprised when a nurse poked her head in and cheerfully announced the words he never thought he would've heard in the situation he was in right then.

"You have a visitor."

Kirei blinked with confusion. Nobody should have known he was here at the time, much less because he was still under that Yamada Taro nickname for the time being. It was not nice of him to deceive good doctors and nurses so, but it was necessary for the time being. As far as Kirei knew, he was without funds and identity and the only thing he really had as his own, was that brand around his wrist and a strange sign on his right hand, looking as if it were carved into his skin in deep, blood red color in the shape of stylized triskelion.

He had made peace with the fact that he was ten years in the future, in his aged up body. What was concerning him the most right now was that he didn't have any information about Harry and the others - but mostly about Harry. If it weren't for his body's weakness he would've been already gone.

"I am unaware of anyone knowing me - "he began, only to be interrupted by a nurse's flirty giggle at his visitor before someone stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Well, well, well. For a corpse, you are looking remarkably good." A well-known-if a little bit aged voice commented idly.

Kirei's spine involuntarily stiffened as he slowly turned around, looking at his unexpected visitor.

' _Tohsaka.'_ His shocked mind whispered to him as he watched the elegant man clad in deep burgundy suit that would, on any other person, looked ostentatious, but on him, it looked just right for the some reason.

Tokiomi Tohsaka. The man has aged, and had a small, well-trimmed beard that offset his uniquely colored eyes, those years apart had been kind to him, apart from some crow feet at the edges of his eyes.

"How?" Only one word, but with a wealth of questions buried beneath. How did Tohsaka find him? Why wasn't he surprised? And did he know where was Harry?

" _Hm-m_ If it weren't for me being Fuyuki's Second Owner, I would've probably missed you as well," Tokiomi mused as he sat down on the nearby chair, his lips tilting in a sardonic smirk. "After all, I would've been a pretty shoddy teacher if I hadn't known my own student's _mana_ even after the said student had vanished off the face of Gaia."

"But luckily - or unluckily for you, you have landed in Fuyuki, where, coincidentally the Fourth Grail War is about to begin." If Tohsaka had had his beloved scepter along, Kirei didn't have any doubt the man would've twirled it between his fingers like some kind of a weirdly ornamented baton and not the minor mystical code as it was.

 _Fourth Grail War._ If Kirei had been anyone else, he would've groaned at the implications. Mess, murder and mayhem at every step whichever way the ones, chosen by the Grail, attempted to take. And judging by throbbing pain on the top of his hand, Kirei was now one of the self-same unlucky participants in it.

Which also meant his search for Harry would be significantly hindered by his newfound obligations.

Clenching his hands in fists, he resolved himself to getting through this newest clusterfuck no matter what.

"Is it wise of you to tell me that?" Kirei inquired, his voice a schooled blank mask, not betraying anything.

Aquamarine eyes glinted at him. "Wise? Probably not. "The man hummed, entertained. "But considering the fact I want you as my ally in this war, is rather necessary." He nodded to the seals etched in Kirei's hand, causing Kirei to foolishly want to hide it behind his back as if to deny his involvement in the newest oncoming disaster. "You are here without anything but your life to your name. I want to win the War and reach the Root of Akasha. So we will, as people say so uncouthly, scratch each other's' backs. You help me win, and I will provide you with the means you seek." Tokiomi said lazily, a smug smirk resting on his lips, knowing that Kirei didn't have any other choice but to accept the bargain.

Kirei was silent. His brain, however, was not as it built and discarded the strategies needed to deal with his teacher turned enemy at a lightning pace, the young priest's face not giving any indication what was brewing in his head.

Of course there existed possibility that Tohsaka was lying. All Magi knew the worth of a subterfuge. Much as he loathed admitting it to himself, Kirei found him being in an inferior position for once. Of course, he could've acquired necessary information by force - and maybe he would have to use _those_ particular means in the near future, but it was much easier to lull the enemy into overconfidence if the one they thought cornered deemed to bow to their demands.

 _Well._ For now, he would follow Tohsaka's lead… for a time, anyway. He exhaled a light sigh, as if coming to decision.

"And Father Risei?" He inquired. Tohsaka's eyebrows rose, as the man chuckled, as if entertained with Kirei's conundrum. "You will be pleased to hear he is acting as an Overseer for this war. He was also overjoyed upon finding out you were back, I imagine." Tokiomi chuckled. "We were enjoying ourselves a glass of good old port, when the alarms went off, and much to my surprise, one of the intruders was my long-missed, wayward pupil. Although – "The man's eyes sharpened into aquamarine knives "I will be asking you what had happened, and make no mistake, you will give me honest answers as soon as possible." Right now the man seemed to be something else than an elegantly looking dandy - this was the true face of the Second Owner of Fuyuki city.

Kirei's limps curled into a shallow smile as he forced his body to relax back from attaching the man who was now his biggest obstacle to his search for Harry. "Indeed I shall."

Tokiomi gifted him with a mild, but razor-sharp smile. "Glad we are on the same page." He commented as he rose from the chair and strode to the door. "Nurse Ogata will give you your uniform. It may be a little bit… uncomfortable on you, as Father Risei and I didn't exactly calculate in your…" His eyes trailed over Kirei's body length-wise, "...growth spurt." He finished lamely, now looking and sounding quite sheepish, like the Tokiomi Tohsaka Kirei had known once upon time.

Kirei wasn't impressed.

"I am grateful for your generosity." He intoned, careful not to overstep his bounds. Harry had warned him of his apparent trolling habit and with Tokiomi now behaving so foolishly, Kirei had to admit - even if only to himself - that he was well and truly tempted to exercise that particular bad habit of his right then and there.

But there would be time. Even Tokiomi had to slip sometime, not that it was it was hard to, considering the man was, aside from being older, still quite a bit of a fool like he used to be when Kirei had last seen him. If anything, he ought to be even bigger fool now and Kirei looked forward to the free entertainment.

Not that it showed on his face when he called out to the nurse to ask for the change of clothes Tokiomi had brought along for him to change into.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _A month had passed from their unfortunate trip, and Skull was still shaken. It was bad enough to find out that he had been dragged into the underbelly of the beast, called mafia, then it was wore when they had been cursed into their infant forms and the absolute worst was living with Fon in all of his temperamental glory._

 _The man may have been described as an Eye of the storm, the moniker that was, for all of its intents and purposes, quite flattering, but living with him as he was trying to get over the loss of his potential Sky, was anything but._

 _Fon has holed himself in and drifted between bouts of denial, anger and depression - bargaining had gone out of the window straight at the beginning, considering the one and only Luce's visit when the woman tried to apologize to Fon for her part in this senseless… whatever it was._

 _It had gone about as well as one could've expected - that's to say, it hadn't gone well at all. Fon had been chillingly polite to her, his Flames - Skull was uncomfortably aware of those red monstrosities curling in almost invisible wisps around Fon, like a living shroud of St. Martin, but infinitely more dangerous for all of their innocent appearance as the seethed and hissed about the man, ready, willing and able to explode into howling storm at any given moment._

 _And Luce had gone too far, insisting to introduce Fon to her daughter when she would be born._

 _Skull swore he would never, ever forget Fon's expression on his face at that particular moment._

'Leave.' _Only one world, but so cold even the coldest of the tallest peaks on Earth in the middle of the harshest winter seemed like tropical paradise in summer in comparison with that single exhale of sound leaving Fon's mouth._

 _And Fon's Flames_ screamed. _Luce practically stumbled back into Reborn, her own Flames diving back into her, attempting to hide in the deepest crevices as to not be Scarred by Fon's Storm ones again._

 _His own Flames, Skull noticed with surprise, entwined with Fon's, the Storm ones doing nothing to pull them down or to take them over - instead, they seemed almost protective, like those of an older sibling protecting the younger. They outright snarled at the tiny wisps of Luce's own Flames that attempted to ingratiate themselves to Skull's own ones, inserting themselves between Sky and Cloud Flames so firmly they may as well be an impenetrable fortress, ready, willing and able to rain Heaven's wrath to anybody daring – or foolish enough to try to entice Cloud Flames safeguarded behind them into their hold._

 _And if from there on, Skull had spent more time in Fon's companion, drinking tea and clumsily trying to emulate_ Tai Chi _movements Fon was patiently teaching to him, if the martial artist wasn't off to destroy another training room Verde had slaved over between mumbles and curses, holing himself into his garden with depression or denial or all three (yet_ _ **again**_ _)._

 _Skull may have not known what it was to have a proper Harmony, but he knew how it was to bear burdens, strong enough to make a man want to give up his very existence. What he could do for Fon at the very last, was to help him to overcome that particular storm for as long as it would last._


	56. Chapter 56

_**Disclaimer:**_ Disclaiming the characters but not the story, because the latter wouldn't leave me alone. A stubborn puppy, that one.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Arcobaleno kerfuffle at its finest. They are apparently impatient to get noticed and took this little snippet to introduce themselves in all of their _chibi_ glory as it were.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, Arcobaleno being sad little puppies dealing with _The Problem_ the best way they knew how and oh, all that lovely mess. **Not beta-read.**

* * *

 _And it came a heat wave  
A merciful save  
You choose you chose  
Poetry over prose  
A map is more unreal than where you've been  
Or how you feel  
A map is more unreal than where you've been  
Or how you feel  
And it's impossible to tell  
How important someone was  
And what you might have missed out on  
And how he might have changed it all  
And how you might have changed it all for him  
And how he might have changed it all  
And how you might have changed it all for him_

( _'Intuition'_ by _Feist_ )

* * *

"You fucked up." Reborn's voice was cold and clinical as he stared Luce down, dismissing the white-haired man sitting in the corner of the room as inconsequential.

The Giglio Nero Sky's eyes were wide, dark eyelashes clumped and wet with tears as she tried to hold the pain that throbbed from the stump where her hand used to be.

"But I don't understand." Her voice was tight and she looked even tinier in that wide expanse of a bed she was tucked in, courtesy of her Guardians, her face just as pale as the show white sheets she was laying upon, the only color to enliven the stark whiteness was piped orange border of the covers. Her squirrel nuzzled under her chin, chirping at her in what seemed to be a comforting manner, but to no avail.

Reborn was standing on her bed and it should have been funny, to see the baby in a tiny suit with even tinier fedora and the tiniest possible chameleon riding his shoulder, but it wasn't. The pacifier resting on his chest gleamed with the Sun Flames, reacting to Luce's own pacifier, but in contrast to before, those warm yellow Flames were keeping to themselves, which was a sure sign she had lost Reborn's trust.

(She didn't know just how much would she miss Reborn's Flames sliding against her own, until she lost that privilege that disastrous day when everything that could've gone wrong had happened in what seemed to be a blink of time.)

Baby soft lips curled into a disapproving frown as those beetle-black eyes stared into her own unflinchingly.

"You took away his Sky." He spoke those five words slowly as if condemning her and in a way, he was. Luce flinched away from them, but they echoed in her head, swirling from one to another, tumbling and shaking in her consciousness and seeping into her Flames that practically wilted into themselves with shame and remorse.

"After that last _mission_ -" Reborn continued, his voice toneless as he narrated the story,"- Fon had hoped to Court his Sky. He had known that you weren't the one – " Luce's eyes lowered to the single hand gripping the covers in her lap. "- Because you already had your Guardians. Nevertheless, he had met his Sky along the way and he was biding his time to do things _properly_." Luce bit her lip, now feeling even guiltier than before.

Even if poaching Guardians from Skies was not that unheard of in mafia, it was just that - poaching. May the best Sky win and all that. But encroaching on a Courting Element was a whole other no-no ballgame.

Her eyes glazed over when she remembered Fon changing into an absolute, desperate _monster_ in an effort to reach that slender silhouette in the middle of that cursed circle.

"You _knew_?" She whispered, her throat tightening around the words like a sound-shaped noose, ready to murder that tiny bit of hope she still cradled in the deepest, most hidden chamber of her heart.

Reborn let out a noise of assent. "And what was more; Harry could've been a good match for him. In fact, I've never seen Fon as free and relaxed than when he had been just then, sitting under the tree and cuddling Harry." Elegant black eyebrows twitched with remembered annoyance at the sequence of happenings that followed that cute scene and Harry's extremely uncute Storm/Cloud Guardian.

"Harry?" The man in the corner of the room spoke out, his dark eyes intent, and dare Reborn think, desperate?

"Who else?" Reborn's counter-question may as well be an atomic bomb of sound thrown directly into the man's paling face. "Did you think that Fon was trying to get out of the circle to him for shit and giggles?"

"Trying?" Luce didn't know, but she had a bad feeling about that single word even when she mouthed it out.

"Yes. Somehow, he and his Guardians had been drawn into the circle – "

The chair screeched on the floor as the white-haired man jumped up. "That's impossible!" he barked out with a sharp voice, but his wide eyes betrayed just how rattled he was.

Reborn wanted to raise his eyebrows at the man's uncharacteristic behavior. Probably one more person that got connected to Harry's Flames? Letting out a small hum at this newest puzzle, he tilted his fedora to the man.

"I was told that he and his bunch _specialize_ in impossible."

* * *

A month had passed from their unfortunate trip, and Skull was still shaken. It was bad enough to find out that he had been dragged into the underbelly of the beast, called mafia, then it was wore when they had been cursed into their infant forms and the absolute worst was living with Fon in all of his temperamental glory.

The man may have been described as an _Eye of the storm_ , the moniker that was, for all of its intents and purposes, quite flattering, but living with him as he was trying to get over the loss of his potential Sky, was _anything_ but.

Fon has holed himself in and drifted between bouts of denial, anger and depression - bargaining had gone out of the window straight at the beginning, considering the one and only Luce's visit when the woman tried to apologize to Fon for her part in this senseless… _whatever_ it was.

It had gone about as well as one could've expected - that's to say, it hadn't gone well at all. Fon had been chillingly polite to her, his Flames - Skull was uncomfortably aware of those red monstrosities curling in almost invisible wisps around Fon, like a living shroud of St. Martin, but infinitely more dangerous for all of their innocent appearance as the seethed and hissed about the man, ready, willing and able to explode into howling storm at any given moment.

And Luce had gone too far, insisting to introduce Fon to her daughter when she would be born.

Skull swore he would never, ever forget Fon's expression on his face at that particular moment.

 _'Leave.'_ Only one world, but so cold even the coldest of the tallest peaks on Earth in the middle of the harshest winter seemed like tropical paradise in summer in comparison with that single exhale of sound leaving Fon's mouth.

And Fon's Flames _screamed._ Luce practically stumbled back into Reborn, her own Flames diving back into her, attempting to hide in the deepest crevices as to not be Scarred by Fon's Storm ones again.

His own Flames, Skull noticed with surprise, entwined with Fon's, the Storm ones doing nothing to pull them down or to take them over - instead, they seemed almost protective, like those of an older sibling protecting the younger. They outright _snarled_ at the tiny wisps of Luce's own Flames that attempted to ingratiate themselves to Skull's own ones, inserting themselves between Sky and Cloud Flames so firmly they may as well be an impenetrable fortress, ready, willing and able to rain Heaven's wrath to anybody daring – or foolish enough to try to entice Cloud Flames safeguarded behind them into their hold.

And if from there on, Skull had spent more time in Fon's companion, drinking tea and clumsily trying to emulate _Tai Chi_ movements Fon was patiently teaching to him, if the martial artist wasn't off to destroy another training room Verde had slaved over between mumbles and curses, holing himself into his garden with depression or denial or all three (yet _**again**_ ).

Skull may have not known what it was to have a proper Harmony, but he knew how it was to bear burdens, strong enough to make a man want to give up his very existence. What he could do for Fon at the very last, was to help him to overcome that particular storm for as long as it would last.

* * *

Viridian eyes stared at the machine that was currently doing some kind of spectral analysis on that accursed accessory he was forced to tote around. It was an unpleasant feeling, having the thing off and away from his neck, but it couldn't be helped. In the name of science - _and freedom_ – some things had to be sacrificed, and if he had to suffer a _minor_ discomfort for it, then so be it.

But his mind wasn't on the machine or its doings. He knew his tools like his heartbeat - they would do their tasks without fail, so it wasn't necessary for him to hover over them like some kind of a worrywart nanny, even if the machine in question was a mere prototype of the real thing, its parts scavenged from some of his nearest and dearest projects he would've killed and allowed himself to be drawn and quartered before even thinking of cannibalizing his little babies, so to speak.

Two weeks ago, he would've thought so, too. But two weeks ago, he was a grown-ass man, hailed and feared both in the science and mafia sphere for his genius. Two weeks ago, he was practically untouchable, as long as he followed the unwritten creed of not trodding on Vindice's overly sensitive undead little toes. Two weeks ago, he had a hope and a Sky.

Verde wanted to scoff at his naive self of two weeks ago and if he had an access to Bovino's excuse of a time machine, he would've undoubtedly used it - even as unstable as it were - to return back and slap the _shit_ of his imbecilic, Sky-addled past self before drugging it and hiding it behind the most complex, Sky-Flames impervious lock and key to weather the disaster in the making safe and sane.

 _Well._ Safety was always a little bit iffy. Sanity...there was a thin line between being a genius or a straight out _idiot_ and Verde just couldn't believe he had let himself to merrily skip and trod on the idiotic side so very easily. If dying of mortification was possible, Verde supposed he would've been a prime candidate for the list.

He glared at his chubby hands, so very _inconvenient_ for handling epruvettes and tiny pieces of machinery he was always tinkering with. It was driving him to an absolute _distraction_ when he always forgot that he wasn't his adult self, always having to deal with over-reaching for things, only for the same things to keep being out of his reach, almost mockingly so, reminding him again and again that he was a _baby_ of all things and he had to compensate for his short stature in every way and form available if he wanted to be as efficient as usual.

 _(He had, in a fit of impotent fury, absolutely_ destroyed _his lab once, many of his pet projects and experiments perishing an inglorious death among the storm of green Flames intense enough that one would've thought he was attempting to reenact Frankenstein's experiment. Later on, he had found himself in a cot in one place he never thought himself to ever be - the Storm's room. Because he had completely depleted his Flames, his recovery took five days in which Reborn practically_ lambasted _him for his stupidity - like Verde hadn't known what would that kind – and most importantly,_ quantity _\- of energy do in this_ exact _situation. But Reborn, that impossible know-it-all couldn't resist, could he? (Verde ignored the twinge of guilt at Reborn's undertone of concern over his little sermon.))_

Death would've been better than this kind of existence Verde had been forced into without his knowledge and worse, _consent._ If he had _known..._

 _'What if, what if.'_ A dark voice mocked him, cackling like hyena in the background of his thoughts. Verde clenched his fists, acutely aware of their weakness. He was a scientist, the _modern Da Vinci_ , for fuck's sake, he didn't need any thoughts of improbable possibilities that were now way past his ability to change.

He inhaled. He had been a fool, not knowing all the variables - twice the fool to think that he had found his place under the sun, however drowned in shades it was.

All of them had been taken for fools, led to their proverbial slaughter like lambs - unknowing and all too trusting for a bunch of people who knew all too well hard realities of life. Verde's eyes dulled when he remembered Fon's outburst when he had seen the intruders in their circle.

 _It was supposed to go smoothly, whatever it was. Seven of them, just standing on their assigned places and let the pacifiers do their magic. It was fifteen minutes into the ritual, with Verde curiously observing the circle drawing their Flames within it - the greedy thing had demanded more and more, but at the same time, there was some kind of resistance, like the Flames had encountered some kind of road block or faulty variable, deriving most of the power away from the circle and to somewhere else._

'The question is,' _Verde pondered, his teeth clenching with pain that roared through the veins of his body like poisonous vines made of fire,_ 'where – '

 _-only for his Flames to be_ yanked _out of him in a rush – Verde choked back a scream - as if some force used them for a sling and then, the three people - no,_ four _\- appeared in the middle of the darkened circle, the three unknowns standing in a precise triangle between two of the Strongest, the power still interconnecting them, but practically_ slamming _into newcomers in a howling torrent of energy before it concentrated on the one in the middle._

 _Verde's photographic memory was both a gift and a curse. He could remember oh so many things, but he was cursed to never, ever forgetting them. Those three strangers - he had never seen them before, but those eyes - those eyes were the shade he had only seen in one place only._

 _In his mirror._

How _. How? **How** was it possible? It was only a moment, but that shade was unmistakable. The circle's precarious balance had been tipped and that ought to have been Verde's first cue to getthehelloutofhere **right** **now** **–**_

 _-and then the quartet of impossibilities vanished, as if they hadn't even been there to begin with._

He had been so badly shaken he almost overlooked the monster on his right – but Fon's howl of utter _fury_ dragged his mind to the present, Verde's eyes just about bugging out of his skull when he saw the monstrous amount of outpot the usually calm and serene Storm was throwing around as the martial artist launched himself to the two cuplrits for this entire mess - no, not throwing around, those Flames definitely had target, and that was _Luce –_

Reborn's scream to _raise their Flames the fuck_ _**up,**_ to chain the uncontrollable beast of madness that was their ever-calm, ever-smiling, ever-reliable teammate going off his rails, griefed that the one in the middle - _the Sky?_ – had vanished in front of him and then, the struggle that wiped out the last atoms of Verde's Flames, them being broken down, crushed, used, and _abused_ and Verde was so very, very _ **cold**_ when he succumbed to darkness.

Green eyes narrowed in contemplation. Even now, Verde felt hollow and numb - a horrifying combination that had nothing to do with the ever-present boredom that plagued him all his life.

Eyes, aside fingerprints, are unique to each and every human. And speaking of genetics, color of eyes was one thing that was inherently decided via genes, and thus not subjected to any manipulation later on, if one excluded exotic illnesses that had some kind of effect on human's iris.

Verde's eyes were said to be unique, what with their shade of green. They were the reason for his very name, unoriginal as it was. Most of people thought that Verde called himself as such because of his hair - but in truth, it was because of his eyes.

 _Verde._ Green. The one unique point Verde both liked and abhorred about himself. He liked his eyes, because they were a unique shade of verdant color. The probability of meeting another person - another _human_ \- with that kind of eye-catching color was really very, very small.

But it had happened. In less than five seconds.

He had thought he had been alone. He had been born alone, he would die alone, just like animal. Nothing too earth-shaking. Death was a part of the process called life, after all.

However, reality seemed to like mocking him and kicking his metaphorical guts with the thing Verde had dreaded the most - _possibilities._

There was no _what if._ Not anymore.

There existed only _how, why_ and _when_ and _what for._

And Verde would be damned to the deepest pits of _hell_ if he didn't find the answers to this newest puzzle of impossibilities. He swore he would... and when Verde sat his mind on something, then it was only a question of time.

Lying Skies (Verde outright _ignored_ Luce aside asking her for Checkerface's whereabouts) and irritating chains in the shape of pacifiers aside, Verde now had a reason to believe that someone had lied to him.

And that someone would pay for it _dearly._

* * *

"You fucking _imbecile."_ Suffice to say, Viper was _not_ happy. They even left out their signature ' _mou'_ , which was a _very_ telling sign just how _incensed_ they were.

They were currently glaring at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby that was trying to back away from the incensed illusionist into the blue-haired female baby behind his back.

"I don't care if she is _love of your life,_ you've fucked up _majorly_." A small, chubby hand waved in the air elegantly, causing the said blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby to flinch at the movement. "And the worst thing _is,_ " Viper continued, their voice almost hissing out from underneath their cowl "we cannot un-fuck it back."

"It was not my fault, _kora!"_ The blue-eyes baby tried to defend himself, only to yelp with pain when the blue-haired one harshly bonked him on his head.

"You _IDIOT!"_ She screeched, causing both of them to wince from her loud voice. "What part of _'do not interfere'_ didn't you understand?!" Her red eyes were blazing with fury as she advanced at the now cringing baby in front of her.

"But Lal!" The blue-eyed baby whined back. "No _BUTS!"_ The now named Lal screamed at him, delivering another bonk onto his stubborn head. "When a soldier is ordered to stay put, that fucking _**means**_ they have to _stay put!_ You are trained to obey the orders! And what, pray tell, did you do _instead?"_

Her glare was sharp enough that if it were real, it would've sliced diamonds. Instead, it just bounced off of the idiot she was currently chastising along with Viper.

Colonello was an A-grade idiot. Sure, he was a good soldier. A promising one, even, otherwise Lal wouldn't have taken him under her wing. But right now, Lal regretted her impulsive decision rather harshly.

She had lost her job because of those fucking Flames, and now, she was stuck as a baby, because one goddamn idiot just had to follow her and in a fit of imbecilic heroism push her out of the circle, thus short-circuiting it and prompting everything to go straight into hell.

If it weren't for Colonello, the ritual would've concluded successfully, without the mess that was those strangers appearing within the circle, draining the Strongest almost dry and Fon completely losing his collective shit for some reason and trying to attack Luce and then, when they woke up from their pain and loss-of-Flames induced nap, they found out the cherry on the top of this proverbial shit pile - them having been changed into babies.

And everything was Colonello's. Damn. Fault.

"You. Stupid. Apprentice." With each of her word, Colonello suffered a smack on his head and pride. His eyes involuntarily watered with hurt and indignation as he opened his mouth to retort back (and dig his proverbial grave deeper at the same time.)

(Somewhere, one Kirei Kotomine sneezed.)

Invisible eyes from the cowl glared at the arguing pair, a dark aura rising from them slowly, stopping the duo in their tracks as they slowly turned around and looked at the cloaked baby fearfully.

" _You two. Owe. Me. A_ _ **. Money."**_

Lal Mirch bit back a whimper. Colonello may or may not have whimpered as the shade loomed over them ominously.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _The infamously famous Murphy's Law. 'Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong,' He hadn't believed in it, but with the latest disastrous happenings he couldn't but accept it as the fact._

 _And wasn't that a hard pill to swallow._

 _Luckily - or unluckily - the ritual held on, as it ought to have, surprisingly enough, considering the fact the entire thing could've blown in their collective faces, what with Storm's unexpected outbreak, but on the other hand, they had lost some. (Luce lost a hand to enraged Storm's Flames and it was only his quick thinking and superior reflexes she hadn't been completely turned to ash. And even then, he suffered some plenty unpleasant burns himself. )_

 _He swallowed. No. The one he had lost._

 _His friend._

 _He hadn't known that he deemed that fragile little mortal as his friend up until now. It was something he had taken for granted much to his dismay._

 _And now, he was gone, and he was alone once more._

 _Like always_.

 _He stared at the town, ramen noodles in his mouth tasting like card board as he contemplated the next chapter in this all too predictable story that was about to continue, deep enough in his thoughts that he almost overheard the question._

" _Is this seat taken?"_


	57. Chapter 57

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own characters and the story had just run away from me… _Help?_

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Okay, the story was mischievous little sprite that poked and prodded me for more when I finished the former chapter. As it is, this is an exception, considering I've tangled myself in that mess with Arcobaleno in the chapter ahead of this one. Constants are Harry practically tripping over trouble wherever he goes, Waver got a troublemaker of his own and Kiritsugu had a team building session with Saber. (Don't ask me, how, it just happened like this.) Thus _Carmina Burana_ and its lovely little song. I recommend you to listen to it, its interesting tidbit that wouldn't be amiss in the original **_Fate/Zero_** premise.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, I am trying to be serious ( _really!_ ); Harry really has F-rank Luck in this one and Berserker got a name. **Not beta-read.**

 _ **Glossary:**_ _**Djinni**_ (Arabian) - plural of _**djinn**_ denoting a spirit, that is either good or bad, usually starring as a genie that makes their savior's wish come true in Arabian tales, but that is not always the case.

* * *

 _O Fortuna_  
 _Velut luna_  
 _Statu variabilis_  
 _Semper crescis_  
 _Aut decrescis;_  
 _Vita detestabilis_  
 _Nunc obdurat_  
 _Et tunc curat_  
 _Ludo mentis aciem,_  
 _Egestatem,_  
 _Potestatem_  
 _Dissolvit ut glaciem._

 _('O Fortuna'_ from _Carmina Burana)_

* * *

Summoning has always excited humankind's imagination. To have under one's hand a powerful summon that could devastate one's enemies at their master's command, was the penultimate dream of many aspiring leaders. Through history, people had tried to realize that dream - of having a powerful, devoted servant, loyal on to themselves, in different ways.

Be that rearing potentials up and indoctrinating them to their views, brainwashing people or just straight out strong-arming those unfortunate enough into service to themselves - only rarely, here were the chances extremely powerful individuals followed their chosen leaders by their own will. Animals were easier to break and mold, but lacked the intelligence to truly aid their masters in their endeavors. Thus, people dreamed of summons, the good and bad ghosts, _djinni_ at the beck and call of mortal men and women they served.

However impossible it seemed to be, summoning still existed within the folds of secrets hidden among paranormal and magical, a borderline between the two of them, accessible to the ones who dared to dance with death in order to gain that gift.

And who could dance with death closer than Magi themselves?

Ever since that decisive dawn when the Great Three decided to pool their resources together in order to reach the Root of Akasha, the summonings were always the part of the deal, needing a sacrifice to materialize in the mortal plane once again, only to serve the ones that Summoned them.

A sacrifice of blood and _mana_ to invoke the perfect Servant from time when legends had walked on Earth.

The bulbous moon was the only witness to the happenings in deserted park where a slight teenager straightened from his crouched position when he finally completed the summoning circle, hissing with pain that stabbed in his back and gnawed at his hand.

"The whole fucking thing better be worth it." The young teen grumbled to himself, glaring at the circle he had painstakingly done in the ground. He felt light-headed and only the pain was holding him up - that, and desperate determination to make it work, no matter the cost to himself.

He was clad in his school clothes, not seeing any sense in changing out of them, so used to them he had become in those long days of his stay at the Clock Tower. His straight dark hair gently swished in a breeze when he looked at the wristwatch.

"Well. Right in time for the main course, aren't we?" He muttered to himself, swallowing down the ball of dread clogging his throat. No matter how much he tried to convince himself he wasn't nervous, he was. Nervous, that is.

But he hadn't stole the summoning artifact right out from his mentor's nose to pussy out at the last, and most critical step. If this was the only way to find out what had happened to his family, then by all that was holy - or unholy - he would damn better evoke the shit out of the Summoning right there and then.

He had prepared for it, ever since his impulsive decision to get back at that El-Melloi bastard the best - or worst way he had known how, to steal the glory of being participant in this Holy Grail War for himself -

 _No._

Well, that was only a part of reason; El-Melloi was just the unfortunate fucker that pissed him off enough to be the part of collateral damage in the process. Waver couldn't help but think what his self-imposed big brother Xanxus would have done to the man if he had been in Waver's place.

' _Probably riddled Kayneth with bullets to the point of the smug pure-blood bastard being a bloody sieve - literally.'_ The grim thought ought to have horrified Waver, but instead, he felt kind of amused by it. Xanxus would've done it, the overbearing little shit he was. Even as a small brat, Xanxus didn't allow anyone to tread him down and Waver was a witness to many a spat between Harry's fiery protégé and his three teachers. Honestly, Waver had kind of worshipped Harry for his command over the little monster.

 _(He didn't think he would ever miss those horrifying, mind-scarring and reality-twisting days with Xanxus and Iri, when the due defied logic, reality and common sense while breaking Waver's mind apart like overripe tomato - but after living with the Terrible Twosome, Clock Tower kind of lost most of its mysticism in a very short order. Some of Waver's classmates found that tidbit of Waver's very strange, considering that newcomers without any significant magical background were more likely to be intimidated and bullied. But not Waver - if anything, he found Clock Tower be exceptionally_ boring _after the first three months of being there.)_

Waver missed his little family more than he would've liked to admit, even to himself. He had chosen that elderly pair because they were kind and in some way, reminded him of that warmth he had received such a long time ago. Every day since he had found out that they vanished, he wondered what exactly had happened to them. Especially to Harry.

He still felt a lump of grief in his throat when he thought of those gentle green eyes looking at him with fondness and understanding when he prattled away about his plans and the hand that fondly ruffled his hair when he was upset about Xanxus' and Iri's latest shenanigans.

The familiar lump of grief solidified in steel determination as he stared at the circle in front of him, slowly inhaling the crisp night air, standing at the invisible precipice, about to tumble down into the unknown.

His brain hysterically screamed at him to abort the mission, that this was the very stupidest thing to do, and that Harry wouldn't have liked him in danger.

Waver was aware that Grail Wars weren't picnic. Heck, he _was_ weak, he didn't have anything special to go on by, aside his nearly suicidal determination of do or die.

But did that matter?

No.

Exhaling slowly, he began the chant, his voice crisp and clear as he forged forward, ignoring the pain slicing his body through his back and palm.

" _Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation  
Let gray be the color I pay tribute to - "_

In front of his eyes, the circle lit up with soft grayish white, as if responding to his will, and Waver forged onward, his mind on the end goal - he was not losing it, not now, not when he was so close to it -

Stubbornly, he disregarded the picture swaying in front of his eyes and roiling of his stomach and goddamit, why did that particular ritual demanded for so much of his own blood, honestly?

 _" - I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword." _

He ought to have been scared about it. But _hell,_ if he managed to survive _Xanxus_ of all people, then this Grail War will be a piece of cake in comparison to that.

 _" - Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…Then answer!"_

He barked out, his bark more of a choke as the accumulated _mana_ swelled up, a greedy, shapeless beast regarding him with its invisible eyes, watching and judging him whether he was suitable prey or not -

Waver didn't mind. Let it look at him, hungry and deliberating, but if it gave him the means, then -

Then it would be _worth_ it.

He took a breath again, ignoring the answering howl of energy clambering through the air, retreating, rearing to jump through, as he continued speaking, his teeth hurting and throat swelling with effort, his _mana_ draining out of him even faster now, he acutely felt tethers being created, hooking up something big and heavy -  
 _  
"- An oath shall be sworn here!"_

He felt cold sweat forming on his face, beads rolling down across the skin he felt his muscles protesting and nerves screaming, but he forged on, unwilling to _lose -_

 _" - I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven!  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell! "_

If that was what it was needed to be done to find them again, Waver would've done so in a _heartbeat -_

 _J_ udging and coming to decision, energy rose again, the gray changing into white, Waver's last words almost lost themselves in the soundless mix of roar and light spiking _up,_ deafening Waver to everything but his voice as he concluded the chant, wringing out the last drops of his mana out of his body to sacrifice to the overly gluttonous force in front of him.  
 _  
"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power,  
Come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!"_

The energy coalesced into a glowing form - tall, taller than Waver, and taller than Kuzuki, wider too, clad in crimson cloak and armed with sword.

"Hey, lil' laddie. Are you my Master?"

The man - a tall, buff, bearded red haired man asked him, a cheery smile on his scraggly face.

Waver's poisonous glare would be enough to stop a Basilisk in its tracks.

Not that it stopped the man from hurriedly stepping out of the summoning circle and catching Waver in his arms.

' _They are surprisingly warm, those hands, for a Summon_ ,' Waver thought blearily, before he succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry was not a happy camper. Considering what he had found out, he had every goddamn reason not to be.

Ten years in the future, in a foreign country without any funds and not knowing language to boot - yeah, it _sucked._ Surprisingly, England was still standing, which made Harry wonder how the Wizarding World was faring without him.

But the sour cherry on the top of the proverbial pile of shit was his inability to access his funds, considering that Fuyuki was just that kind of backwater town to not have any entrances to the side of supernatural, so to speak. And the air in the town just rubbed Harry wrong for some reason.

Maybe it was because of War that was about to be unleashed in the city, heedless of civilian lives lost or saved, but Harry still had heebie-jeebies about it. There were no two ways about it. He was not feeling well about the oncoming storm - everything within him rattled with warning to get the fuck away, and here he was, stranded and without means to do so.

The only thing that by some miracle survived his unexpected trip into the future and another country at that were his clothes, wristband and shoes. Nothing else.

 _Yippee._ Yay. Awesome. Right. Harry felt even more vulnerable than when he had faced Basilisk - he at least had a sword and a phoenix then, and now, he had nothing.

(And there was still the matter of his friends, and more importantly his kids. Gods, did Harry _**hate**_ his propensity to adopt trouble - or trouble adopting him, it was debatable at this point - at the drop of hat right then.)

Well, not _nothing._ For some reason, Kariya was surprisingly persistent in his efforts to shelter him, much to Harry's confusion. The man had gone even so far as to straight out _order_ his Servant to tail Harry when Harry decided to explore Fuyuki all by himself.

The Servant in question was a big, hulking mass of smoke and glowing red slit where its eyes ought to have been, with a long ribbon trailing down from the top of helmet. For some reason, Harry got a feeling the Servant was torn between coming closer and shying away from him, an indecisive shade that still stiffened whenever Harry absentmindedly tugged it's long glowing blue and violet tinted ribbon at the evenings between his fingers while he chatted with Kariya.

Much to his dismay, he couldn't find none of his friends - the wristband had been so thoroughly messed up in their space-time endeavor that Harry practically cringed when he imagined just what would goblins say about mutilating the wristbands like they had. He didn't have any doubts they would've drawn and quartered him, killed him and then resurrected him only to repeat the said punishment again to their satisfaction. Because they were bloodthirsty lot like this.

(This was practically the _sole_ good point about not having an access to the magic side of things, really.)

But right now, Harry was enjoying his little stroll out and about the town currently waling at the riverside, which was fairly abandoned at that time of year. He was enjoying his stroll, half-chatting with his invisible stalker - it was kind of humorous, talking to air while holding that invisible ribbon in his hands like some kind of makeshift reins and feeling them tense and relax, depending on the mood of his invisible companion. He must have looked weird to the onlookers, until he finally wised up and used a broken cellphone as a prop to look at least a little bit saner that way.

For all that being in a strange country, Harry was more or less reminded of Little Whining, just more relaxed about things. Though it was a relief that houses were different enough for Harry' to not have that constant feeling of _deja vu_ like he had had it in Little Whining.

The weather that day was mild, nature finally regaining its equilibrium after the period of rain. Harry enjoyed breathing in fresh air and exotic scents wafting around. Humming to himself and lightly tugging at the ribbon, he smiled, contemplating what to bring for their dinner.

He had the good luck of getting hired in some shop to move the boxes because one of the regular workers there had called in sick, and the old owner had paid him for his share of work. The fellow had been a little bit gruff and harsh, but Harry hadn't minded, and the pay was enough for them to get by for a week, if they used it sparingly enough.

He was in his thoughts deep enough not to notice that he had bumped into someone.

Or rather, someone had bumped into him in their haste, causing both of them to yelp with surprise as Harry looked at the person in question.

It was a tall Malfoy reject with sharp leaf green eyes and without eyebrows with a lady on his arm. If it weren't for her being grown up and having an exotic tilt to her facial features, Harry would've thought he was looking at Ginny as an adult!

Harry still nearly had a heart attack right there and then, but the lady's eyes looked at him with disdain, not a shred of recognition in their cold depths.

" _Move,_ worm!" She snapped, her chin tilting up arrogantly as he looked down her nose on Harry, as if he were a disgusting trash. She was clad in funny, if a little bit puffed out brown trousers at the knees, combined with white, form-fitting shirt and jacket that was complemented with silky red ribbon hanging from her neck down to her chest, the ensemble concluded with kitten heel shoes. The outfit was strange enough that it ought to turn heads, but instead, the woman in question wore it as if they were _haute couture,_ made exclusively for her in normal settings. She would've looked exquisite, if it weren't for the cold arrogance she exuded with every step, movement and breath.

Bristling, Harry glared right back, his hand unconsciously clenching around the invisible ribbon in his left hand.

"Well _, no._ " He drawled, his stare sharpening even further. "I'd like to think you two owe _me_ an apology for your little… _mishap,_ lady." He used the lady term in a voice that clearly denoted he thought her anything but.

The lady's red eyebrows rose up at his daring. "You _dare!_ Do you even know who we are, you little worm!" She loomed over him, scowling at him ferociously, her companion a disapproving weight in the background, but Harry was sure he wouldn't remain as such for long.

"A pair of unmannered little brats!" Harry shot back as he straightened out his clothes. "It is a custom for people who unintentionally barrel into another person to apologize. It's a common _courtesy_ I would have _expected_ of someone of your stature to know, but alas, it seems I am doomed to be disappointed today." He sneered back at the fuming woman in front of him with all the finesse of a Slytherin.

Harry may have not been Sorted into Slytherin, but that didn't mean he hadn't learned their little walk and talk, so to speak. And this witch - not a real _witch_ , per se - rubbed Harry wrong something fierce, never mind the man.

She geared to retort back, already opening her mouth to curse him out - Harry was waiting for her diatribe, really, it would be interesting to see if she had any better insults than Snape, when a male voice interrupted her.

"Apologize." The demand was cold like ice, and any sensible person would have caved in, especially if it had been spoken to them.

Unimpressed, Harry stared at what could only be a grown up version of what seemed to be a mixture of both Malfoy Jr. and Malfoy Sr., but with a slightly less questionable, even if still outdated fashion sense.

The stranger in question was taller than him – Harry despised his odd luck of being smaller than most of the people and seemingly doomed to remain a shrimp for the rest of eternity – the man was clad in navy scholar coat, complemented with white gloves while his legs were encased in black pants and equally colored shoes. Even if the ensemble was simple, Harry would bet his whole vault the cost of it was anything but. The man had light blond hair in the style reminiscent of Draco's own (gelled-back helmet hair, only with less hair gel in works), with leaf green eyes.

He could've been considered handsome, if not for his barely existent eyebrows and too haughty face.

And oh, let's not forget his better-than-thou attitude that irked Harry something fierce.

So this Malfoy off-shot - Harry was sure he was one of theirs somehow - waited for Harry to apologize for… what? Bumping into him? Because he wanted to impress that whiny red-haired chick that inadvertently gave Harry flashbacks of his own red-haired stalker Harry had left behind in magical world?

Harry glared harder.

The Malfoy reject lifted his chin, and glared back even harder and if glares were ice, Harry would've been pretty chilly cube ten times over by now.

"I've met many pricks in my life" Harry began slowly, causing the Malfoy offshot's glare to chill even more.

"But _you_ , sir, are a fucking _cactus._

Complete and total silence.

And then, Harry heard a small, but undoubtedly masculine giggle at Malfoy-reject's right side.

The Malfoy reject flushed with anger and embarrassment, but Harry was not done with them yet.

"Between the two of you, you have two working pairs of eyes. " He eyed the seething duo skeptically. "And really, unless both of you are blind - which you are _not_ , considering neither of you exhibit signs, typical of a blind person - you could've avoided me _way_ before you tried to enact this little embarrassment of a power play. What are you, five years olds?"

Harry cocked his head as he looked at the duo with a baleful stare, as if honestly not comprehending how they could've done this little _faux pas_.

"Or are you thinking, that just because a person looks like a beggar, that you are entitled to show them just how _oh so much better_ from them you two are?"

The Malfoy reject looked like he swallowed a lemon, while his redheaded companion looked fit to explode when her blond-haired companion held her back from mauling Harry's person.

Harry gave them a death grin.

"Ah, no matter. Sooner or later, we'll all become corpses, anyway. _Not_ nice to meet you, little sunshines, and I hope I won't see you too soon on the other side. " He finished cheerfully as he moved past the now frozen couple, waving at them cheerfully.

Yup. Playing a creepo was the flavor of the day, really. Especially with such an … _inspiring_ audience, it was inevitable.

Harry smirked to himself. _Ahhh_ , the joys of messing with people's heads… especially when they were pricks that deserved it. And that duo definitely fit the parameters. He was in a good mood today, and nothing could change that -

"Wait!" Not even three steps away, and the Malfoy reject called him out.

Exasperated and a little bit miffed at having his fun taken away so soon, Harry rolled his eyes heavenward before he turned back to the couple.

" _Yees_ , sunshine?" He drawled.

"I… " The man paused, and looking like he just drank a full gallon of concentrated lemon juice and valiantly trying not to show it. "I.. apologize." He choked out with a strangled voice, causing Harry's eyes to widen with surprise.

"May I have your name?" Harry was silent at the question, debating whether or not to give it out. Names were powerful for a reason, after all.

"Are you sure you want to know a name if a nobody like me?" he inquired, honestly curious about answer. But what he got, completely floored him.

"I am sure of having a name of my competitor in the Grail War." Leaf green eyes stared at him, for once completely serious and without an ounce of disdain.

 _Fuck._ That was not what Harry expected to hear from the bastard. And just his shitty luck, to see one of the competitors so early in the game.

Inwardly, Harry was sweating like crazy. Just his goddamned luck, wasn't it. Wasn't he _ever_ allowed to have any fun at all? And to top it all off, he didn't even have any sort of weapon on his person.

Kariya had told him, in gruesomely explicit details, what he could expect from the so-called Grail War. And it was just Harry's luck that he still bore those Seals he had gotten when he had inadvertently summoned Archer back then in Italy.

And Harry, dunderhead like he was, completely forgot about having them, waving at the duo with the exact same hand that sported them, the symbols drawn on his skin in vividly sharp red lines.

"I could be a nutcase having a senseless tattoo on their hand." He tried to evade answering the question. Only for his little quip to amuse the Malfoy reject, seeing as his lips tilted in a small smirk when he elegantly pulled the glove off his right hand, showing off a delicately drawn sigil on the back of his hand…. In the same shade of red as Harry's own.

"You proposing that explanation shows off you are anything but a…" the man paused, as if disgusted with the word he was about to say " _nutcase_ as you described yourself to be."

Sharp, leaf green eyes stared at him.

Harry stared back at the man. Looking at him, he could see the stranger wasn't a Malfoy offshoot - his face lacked that distinct elegance the Malfoy line had in their blood, and if any term, then elegant brute would have suited the man the most. Though Harry had no doubt the man was dangerous, considering the sharp glint of keen intelligence in those unusually colored eyes.

Suddenly, he wondered, if it came to the standoff between this stranger and Malfoy Senior, just who would've won between the two of them.

Pushing his stray thought down, he nodded at the man as he clenched the silky, almost ethereal ribbon in his hand, as if drawing support from its existence, however invisible it was.

"May I know your name, then?" Harry's throat was parched as he volleyed the question back.

The man nodded arrogantly as if he hadn't expected any other outcome and for a moment, Harry had an urge to throttle the smug bastard.

"I am Kayneth El-Melloi. Master of Lancer." He - Kayneth – announced his voice smooth and cold as he eyed Harry as if the green eyed teen was a puzzle to solve.

Harry gave him a thin smile, his little facade of creepy insanity completely dissolved at the moment. "Well met, Master El-Melloi. My name is Harry Potter." Harry gave Kayneth a shallow smile that was tilted just barely enough not to be mistaken for a smirk. "As for a Servant, I am afraid I haven't Summoned them yet." He bowed in an apology, not to shallow but not too deep, either.

There was a pressure behind them, the one usually associated with Kariya's Servant materializing itself into reality. Kariya's Servant - Berserker, really - had done that so often that Harry had gotten used to the shade's appearance, treating it like a skittish cat that hadn't decided whether to trust him yet or not.

Harry's blood ran cold. Berserker wasn't about to materialize, was he? Swallowing nervously, he prayed it wasn't so, and dearly hoping against hope Berserker would've heard him somehow –

-Only to feel the prick of those long, deadly sharp claws through his jacket, and there was a distinct presence at his back and Harry dearly wanted to groan when he saw the pair's eyes widen with surprise - because undoubtedly they had seen his silent protector… _somehow._

" _Berry._ Let. Me. Go." Harry slowly and carefully enunciated his demand to the possessive shadow, which only clung to him further - or at least as much clinging it could do what with touching Harry's shoulders via its deadly murderous claws of doom.

"Berry?" Kayneth repeated, unamused. That fearsome, half-feral creature was called _Berry,_ of all things? Named after a _fruit?_ Harry shot him one long-suffering glare right back. And really, Harry was feeling kind of petty, thus he decided in fit of inspiration - or insanity - to call the dangerous Berserker class servant Berry.

' _Served the nuisance right.'_ Harry stoically bore the warning prickle of the claws - a small pain, nothing like Cruciatus, it was a mere prick, really, though judging by the pair's horrified glances at his person.

"You have a _Berserker?"_ There was an odd note in Kayneth's voice and it confused Harry very much. It wasn't like that man cared about him, after all. They were enemies, and that was it.

" _Mmm-hm."_ Harry hummed out a non-comital noise, seemingly unbothered by Kayneth's question. While in reality, he was bothered by that noisy man _a lot._

"And you named it _Berry,_ of all things?" Wow, Kayneth sure was talkative today. Harry glared at the man, peeved.

"Well, maybe I _like_ blueberries!" He snapped at the man before he stomped away, leaving the gob smacked duo staring after him.

(If there was an amused ( _manly_ ) giggle or two echoing after him from the seemingly empty space at Kayneth's shoulder, Harry resolutely chose to ignore it.)

* * *

There was the Good, the Bad and the Ugly. It had been the first lesson his mentor had taught to Kiritsugu to make him a competent assassin.

The Good was, he was still in one piece after his travel in future - and he was able to acquire some weapons to arm himself with - it was not that hard, considering there was a minor _yakuza_ clan operating in the city, and Kiritsugu was that kind of bastard to take advantage of an opportunity presented to him.

The Bad was he was apparently ten years in the future and not knowing where everyone (Harry) was, really grated at his nerves. He was standing at the proverbial powder keg, set to explode, and it was only a question of time when it would go _kaboom_ and bring down just about everything. Well. At least he could do the reconnaissance in peace, having already staked out Lord El-Melloi and his fiancé, but it completely galled him that he had virtually no info about everyone else. Four unknown Servants and Masters - Kiritsugu really, really didn't like the odds he was forced to deal with.

The Ugly - aside his… _exotic_ way of acquisition of his Servant, was, that he had _Saber,_ out of all things. He had thought that hiding Avalon within himself would've prompted the Grail to overlook it and give him an Assassin - that kind of Servant he could deal with, and it would've been ideal for his _modus operandi_ \- but _noo,_ instead of that, he was stuck with an uppity old maid who had the delusions of being King Arthur of all people. And to the top of it all, she was the biggest prude ever. That alone made him doubt her claim of her being the King of Knights - surely she had to deal with men in all states of dress and undress, and as such, she shouldn't have looked so very scandalized about his … carrot and apples, so to speak, when she materialized in front of him for the first time.

Kiritsugu wasn't stupid enough to tell her that he had on him her precious little sheath. If things would go south in the near future, the Avalon was his sole guarantee to somehow survive the mess he had found himself in and continue his search for Harry.

He didn't have any means to track Harry down, considering that bracelet had malfunctioned when they had been transported over, but Kiritsugu still had high hopes to encounter his green-eyed friend sooner than later. The alternative wasn't acceptable.

"What do you want the Holy Grail for?" He heard Saber question him. He ignored her in favor of fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his leather bomber jacket. Shaking one out, he lit it up, sighing with relief when the smoke traveled down to his lungs.

Currently, they were on the roof of the hotel, both of them sitting on the floor, with Saber watching as Kiritsugu checked their recent haul of cold weapons over.

Dark eyes glanced at the blonde-haired girl's disapproving frown. "I don't." His reply was frank. "The entire thing is more of a headache than it is perceived to be, you ought to know that. After all, just how many of your knights had gone to search for the blasted thing and never returned?"

The girl frowned harder, wanting to dispute his little fact, but unable to do so. "But you were Chosen by the Grail." She insisted. "Surely there has to be something you wish for."

Kiritsugu's mind flashed to a pair of warm green eyes smiling at him and the happy voice calling out his name. Unconsciously, his mouth curled in a small, fond smile that surprised his companion.

"You do! Otherwise you wouldn't have made that kind of face!" Saber childishly pointed at Kiritsugu's nose, her eyes wide with surprise.

"I am making _what_ kind of face?" Kiritsugu growled back at her, his face immediately darkening with irritation, but Saber was undeterred. "The foolish one when you like someone!" Saber was feeling very smug, having discovered this little tidbit, and Kiritsugu's flush of surprise only strengthened her little theory. "So who is it?" She prodded, grinning evilly when Kiritsugu blushed further.

"It would be meaningless to use the Grail that way." His response stopped Saber cold in her way of teasing, causing her to look at him with new eyes. "But I thought as an assassin yourself; you would've taken any kind of advantage you could get your hands on?" She asked, confused.

Kiritsugu shook his head. In the light of the setting sun, he looked like an ordinary teenager clad in skinny blue jeans with red T-shirt and leather black jacked hanging over his shoulders like some kind of short cape when he absentmindedly checked the guns in front of him once again before placing them back into the inconspicuous leather case before he looked at her once again, a half-smoked cig hanging on his lower lip carelessly.

"All good things are worth the effort," He replied. Dark eyes looked into Saber's own green ones, and how did she ever thought they were unfeeling and cold? "Using Grail for such a selfish wish of mine would only cheapen it - and he deserves way more than an illusionary happiness provided by a monkey's paw."

For a heartless assassin without any sense of shame, Kiritsugu was surprisingly sensitive guy, Saber mused, impressed. But then, her mind flashed back to what Kiritsugu said –

"He deserves way more – " _Wait._ Saber blinked. Kiritsugu said _he?_ As in, Kiritsugu's mysterious other half was _male?_

" _EEEEHHHH!?"_

A loud squeal of disbelief rang from the rooftop, startling nearby doves and crows into a flight.

Wincing, Kiritsugu glared at Saber, who immediately looked sheepish, a fierce blush of shame painting her cheeks.

"But - But _why?"_ Saber couldn't understand. "Wouldn't it be more prudent to find a girl for that kind of thing?" She was honestly confused. Nothing in knowledge given to her by Holy Grail had mentioned that kind of curve-ball!

"Hell if I know." He grunted, shrugging uncomfortably. "Thing is, I've always liked him. Ever since we were kids. There was a time when we were forcibly separated – " Saber fought not to make any noise of sympathy there, "- and when we met again, I was _this_ close – " Kiritsugu showed her a tiny crack between his thumb and pointer fingers - "- from offing him." His smile was brittle and grim at seeing Saber's horrified face.

"It was just business. I hadn't known who he was then - they forced us to forget about each other because the fuckers wanted him as their personal human weapon. I was goddamn lucky to not listen to the orders that one time." Kiritsugu looked at the tiny cig and shrugged, pressing the butt end of it onto the cold concrete beside him to extinguish the flame. He offered Saber a grim smile. "But we remembered - actually, he remembered and made me remember too. And that is all there is, to it." He exhaled a gusty sigh. "And I don't even know why the fuck am I telling all of this."

"Maybe you had to tell someone. You know, to make it real." Saber offered awkwardly. Feelings were not her forte - not really. "But how do you know it is really love?" She inquired, looking at Kiritsugu like a lost puppy with green eyes that for once, showed just how confused and vulnerable she was.

"I don't." Kiritsugu's reply was blunt, causing her to wince, but Kiritsugu pretended not to notice, instead looking into distance, his eyes shadowed with introspection. "I've never felt anything like this for anyone ever before. Just him. I am not a good person. But he makes me want to be better – not because he _expects_ me to be, but because he sees me like I am and still smiles at me." The smile on his lips was fond, softening the harsh planes of his face into something more approachable than the empty blankness from before.

Saber was quiet, her thoughts running through her head in a rampage of feelings. "Does…" She hesitated, but forged on. "Does he know you are…well, an _assassin?"_

Kiritsugu's wry smirk of amusement took Saber by complete surprise.

"Oh, does he _ever."_ Shaking his head, he chuckled. "That was actually our first topic of conversation after we recognized each other."

Saber was rendered speechless.

And Kiritsugu, as if he hadn't just destroyed her three world views, blithely continued. "In fact, his other two friends are assassins too."

"And he _accepted_ them?" Saber asked, incredulous as she clicked her fingers. "Just like _that?"_

Kiritsugu's face soured. "Unfortunately," He grumbled out.

Saber got a feeling there was a deeper story behind that one word answer she just received on the subject. However, her curiosity about Kiritsugu's mysterious paramour was definitely ignited… and it wouldn't be put down anytime soon.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Throne of Heroes was confusing place. There, gathered together, was the very best and very worst of the mankind. Some could say if there existed Heaven, it would be likened to that place - and incidentally, if Hell had to be described, this very same place would've suited the name just perfectly._

 _Some thought of it like Elysion, the plane where Heroes resided, enjoying the fruits of their labor on earth. Some of them described it as Valhalla, the giant house where mightiest of warriors came home to after finishing their cycle of life to be rewarded and to brush up their own skills against other heroes in expectation of Ragnarok happening again. Some imagined it as peaceful garden full of incomparable beauty and some feared it as the place where demons dwelt, awaiting the unfortunate souls to take and amuse themselves with via torturing them for all eternity._

 _Whatever it was, the only thing anyone could consent to, was that the Throne existed ever since time immemorial and would remain to exist as such until the end of time._

 _Rare were the people who had the privilege to eye that mysterious place and tern return back to report their findings. Even Servants themselves, if questioned, couldn't explain anything about it, no matter how willing they were to divulge its secrets._

 _What it was known - Throne of Heroes_ existed _, in all times and places - likened to a house with many entrances but very few exits._


	58. Chapter 58

_**Disclaimer:** _ Story is mine, but characters are guest starring within it.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Another week, another chapter. This one was interesting to write because story is going on, but characters were more than just a bit uncooperative. I've read your suggestions and theories, and gotta admit, they amused me something fierce, especially UAoFY concept which I am oh so tempted to pick on, but then, the poor, poor dimensions would go kaboom and where would that leave our story? /amused anyway/.

 _ **Warnings:**_ AU on multiple scales, Servants are coming into game and Xanxus is Planning Something so we can pray for the poor souls on the other end of his fire... or something. And Xanxus will grow up a little... bit by bit. Don't worry, he will still be a bratty little shit on occasion. _**Not beta-read.**_

* * *

 _When I talk about it  
It carries on  
Reasons only knew  
When I talk about it  
Aries or treasons  
All renew_

 _Big me to talk about it  
I could stand to prove  
If we can get around it  
I know that it's true_

 _When I talked about it  
Carried on  
Reasons only knew_

 _But it's you I fell into_

( _'Big Me'_ by Foo Fighters)

* * *

There exists a common misconception that the biggest moments in people's lives - the ones of a life-turning kind - invariably have to do or be something very dramatic as to herald the complete turnover of happenings.

But people forget that tiny things are the ones that are the most dangerous ones. It can be a pebble or a grain of rice or drop of rain - that small, insignificant thing that wages everything over and makes or breaks the status quo of the things.

Fuyuki, Japan, was a quiet, lazy town. Nothing much had happened in it, with exception of _yakuza_ dealings and occasional Holy Grail War. And for the latter, the War didn't really impact the lives and deaths of their residents… at least, not much.

The said War was also more or less predictable happening - every sixty years or so, the chosen Masters would gather, along with their summoned Servants, duke it out and hope that one of them will somehow, someway, reach the Root of Akasha. This War - fourth by order - shouldn't have been any different. The players were gathered, the pieces set and the game of death could being in earnest any day coming.

But what ought to be predictable, fell by wayside by virtue - or vice - of Fate itself.

Kayneth's eyes narrowed as he contemplated the latest turnout of the happenings. Ever since he had summoned his Servant things had gone wrong.

First, some impudent bastard had dared to steal Kayneth's true catalyst. The El-Melloi's lord ground his teeth with fury. The catalyst had been worth a fortune - and that was not exaggeration, Kayneth had to shell out a pretty money for buying that mere scrap of a fabric, only to have it stole from under his very nose. Thus, he had been forced to use a second helping of fortune so summon that wimpy, whiny thing of a Lancer. That pretty-faced dog was surely completely useless to Kayneth's efforts to seize the Grail, his only redeeming quality being that he was completely and utterly loyal, even going so far as to reject Sola-Ui's advances. Kayneth was no fool; despite him having feelings for the redheaded woman that was to be his bride, he knew she didn't return his feelings. So it was even more galling that he got the sole servant that was Cursed with being unstoppable magnet for women. It was unbearable and humiliating that he, Kayneth El-Melloi, was spurned so easily in favor of this low-life bastard, no matter the said low-life bastard was practically a legend in his own right.

Secondly, the information he had previously acquired about the other contestants were completely and wholly fake. He didn't know how this was, but it was a fact.

There was an unknown with Caster. The Church also had their own candidate who summoned an Assassin, but they were tight-lipped on their identity.

The one certainty Kayneth knew for sure was that someone had Alexander the Great as a Rider but once again, no information on the person.

The Einzbern faction was mysterious as ever, and the only piece of data Kayneth spy had managed to wiggle out was that they intended to use a Saber, which set Kayneth on edge, considering Einzbern's vast resources. Their choice of Saber could be anyone, which was an extremely valid cause for concern, considering whichever catalyst they would use, the Servant summoned by it, would undoubtedly be extremely powerful.

Not to mention the Second Owner of Fuyuki City himself. Kayneth's lips curled into a disdainful sneer. Tohsaka may have been an authority at working with precious stones as conductors to mana, but the man was still a foolish fool… though if rumors to be believed, he was the foolish fool that managed to acquire an extremely rare artifact to Summon his own Servant with. There were rumors of price for the said artifact exceeding both of Kayneth's ones _combined,_ but at this point, the rumors were just that - rumors. The only true fact in that hodgepodge of mis-and contrary information wafting through Clock Tower was that Tokiomi Tohsaka intended to Summon an Archer class, which was harshly narrowed the man's scope of choices at the given moment.

' _But you, sir, are a fucking cactus.'_ The teen - no, boy's voice echoed in his mind once again, and Kayneth felt his temple vein throb with fury comparable to the ones when he had been reading through that scrawny brat's - what was his name - unbelievable stupidity of a thesis work. But that Velvet brat was at least respectful like he ought to have been in face of Kayneth's complete authority. Contrary to Kayneth's latest headache on the academic side of things, this green-eyed imbecile just straight out _insulted_ him. _Him,_ Kanet El-Melloi, the genius of Clock Tower and the successor and Head of one of the most prestigious magi lines everywhere was cursed out like he was a common cur! _Unbelievable!_

The disrespect wasn't a problem - Kayneth could deal with that easily. The brat's companion, however, posed a problem. A massively huge one.

A Berserker. One, that was, judging by its behavior, at least somewhat sane and protective of the brat. Kayneth didn't have to be extra sensitive to feel the power that practically rolled off of the Servant in invisible waves, ready, willing and able to spring at a moment's notice. Kayneth didn't have any doubt that if the boy had wanted him to be gone back then, this hulking armored creature would've done the deed without an ounce of hesitation. He and Sol-Ui had been saved by the grace of chance, because the boy was mortified about his nickname for his Servant. And really, honestly, just who in their own mind calls a half-insane, overpowered heroic entity _Berry,_ anyway?

Kayneth sorely wished he had had enough of a foresight to pack along some pain-relieving pills to quell his headache-turning-migraine. Carefully inhaling a steady breath, he decided on a course of action before he called out.

"Lancer."

* * *

Kotomine Kirei was indifferent to sufferings of one Tokiomi Tohsaka. Served the fool right, considering the man had prevented him from searching for Harry. Not intentionally, no, but with Kirei having Command Seals branded on his hand and still being under the jurisdiction of Church, it was a foregone conclusion Father Risei and that Tokiomi bastard would want to use him to gain edge over their opponents.

Because of that, Kirei had been ordered to summon an Assassin - an ironic choice, considering he had to listen to Kiritsugu's bellyaching about having to summon a _Saber_ out of all classes, which was an absolute worst match up for Magus Killer and his way of doing things.

Well, someone had to pick up slack after Tokiomi's disaster of a Summon, anyway.

"You're not excited about this Grail War, little priest." A smooth voice whispered near his ear. Kirei, however, didn't do so much as to twitch. He had felt the man's mana closing in on him way before the man himself as tried to sneak up on him.

"Archer." He acknowledged. A breathy chuckle was his only answer before Archer carelessly leaned against window, his golden hair and red eyes a curious contrast against the bleak shadows of the evening. The man - Archer, was clad into an ornate golden armor that surely had to be too heavy for his slender form, but on him, it looked like it weighed less than a feather. Finely crafted face with cruel red eyes the color of blood was almost too perfect to be true, and even that mocking smirk tilting the man's lips didn't detract from his almost otherworldly beauty.

"It's like the war is boring you, hmm?" Archer hummed, the Heroic Spirit evidently entertained by that strange notion.

"It does. Bore me, that is." Kirei's reply was frank as his eyes gazed past Archer through the window into the approaching darkness, trying to find his precious person. Red eyes widened with delight and entertainment at Kirei's answer.

" _Pffft!"_ The man chuckled, entertained. "You are terribly frank one, aren't you?" He bent forward, until both of them were almost nose to nose, playful red staring into blank brown. "And why, pray tell, is the one thing that could give you your heart's desire, unworthy of your esteemed notice?" The last two words were sneered out with disdain but despite his vocalization, Archer was amused enough to be playful.

"It was not my intention to participate in this farce of a war. " Kirei's answer was honest as one could be, but Archer only sneered down at him.

"The Grail had to see something within you, little priest,, to gift you with the Seals on your arm." Archer's lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Everyone has some kind of a wish, little priest. Or…" He paused, dark red eyes, akin to the flawless rubies, glinted dangerously "Maybe I ought to say… a desire?"

Kirei could've just as well be carved from stone, with how unmoving he was. The only part that reflected the ripple in his heart, were his pupils, trembling for the tiniest moment before calming down again. But it was not enough to fool his momentary companion.

Archer chuckled. You little fool. You may have convinced your leash holders that you could care less about world, but you don't do you?" The golden haired hero cocked his head, the gesture simple but overwhelming with class and elegance. If it were anyone but Kirei, those people would've bowed and scraped in front of Archer, begging to bask in his radiance and mercy. "How… _amusing._ " He drawled,as he traced a pointer finger against Kirei's jaw as if the priest were a prized horse and not a person.

"You have someone in your eyes, you fool. Why not have the Grail to deliver them to you?" The tempting words, the words of sin were whispered against Kirei, caressing his mind.

Empty brown eyes looked into cruel crimson ones. Archer stared into a yawning pit of darkness in those eyes - those mud brown, ordinary human eyes held within them such darkness he had to suppress a shiver of delight. This man, holy as he was, was mired in darkness, and oh, it was such a delicious sight.

"Tell me, King of Heroes. Is the win, brought to you by a mere piece of a chalice, truly your win?"

 _"You dare - !"_ Archer snapped, his red eyes ablaze with fury at the impotence of his newest play toy. But the priest didn't back down, his eyes staring back at the Archer with all the intelligence of a dumb dog loyally waiting on their master. Archer's fist clenched in preparation in decking the said dumb dog one.

"You truly are a loyal, dog, aren't you!" Archer's eyes were filled with malice as he sneered at the silent priest. "A loyal, _dumb_ dog. But _fine._ I concede. But make sure to entertain me, mongrel, or else you will find your hours greatly numbered down."

He stepped past the priest, when a wicked thought made him smirk with delight. "Though, I am wondering just how would you make them yours, considering you are holy man of a cloth who wouldn't dare to break your little vows of chastity." He laughed a small, wicked chuckle as he dispersed into air in bright golden motes, leaving behind shaken and pale Kirei.

* * *

This was the shittiest adventure ever. Xanxus was not a happy camper right now, what with being trapped in that monster of a mansion, and hiding away from those ghastly worm-like things.

There was also the matter of Iri being lost somewhere in this maze, and Xanxus was just about at his wits' ends with not being able to find her. Usually, Xanxus could at least feel the tiny Homunculus because of their bond - Xanxus didn't know how, but he was always able to find her, and she him. What was now concerning him, was that for the first time ever since he had found her, there was a hollow coldness where the bond usually was.

And _shit_ , this didn't mean anything good, but Xanxus still held onto hope. The only good thing was that Tribble was still on him, safely hiding him from the house's inhabitants. Still, Xanxus was careful what with his sneaking around and occasionally stealing food for himself - and if it were from this spoiled blue-haired brat, then all the better.

The said spoiled young brat, Xanxus found out, was Matou Shinji. The asshole was also firmly in Xanxus' bad books for mistreating _bambina senza cuore._ Xanxus may not be so stupid as to directly confront the whiny excuse of a human being, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun with spooking the brat one way or another.

Luckily, _bambina senza cuore_ didn't say anything to anyone about his presence - but unluckily for Xanxus, she wasn't so useful as to tell him where was Iri.

Thus, Xanxus was left to his own devices for a time. So he explored the mansion from the top to bottom in meantime while cursing his inadequacy in reading languages. Everything would've been oh so much _easier_ if he only knew how to _read_ those shitty scripts! Instead, he was stuck with emotionless _bambina_ , which was termed important for some reason by his guts and with a unceasing dread of the basement _bambina_ in question headed down to every evening without fail.

For some reason, Xanxus got the ugliest of shivers when he tried to approach the basements. He tried to force him to go down, but no, every goddamn time, he had been forced to stay the _fuck_ away from that place where he was reliably sure Iri was residing in.

And he was goddamn _stuck._ Xanxus' pride had taken a beating, what with his unfortunate landing where he had landed - his eyes just about bugged out of his skull when he had seen the date on newspaper proudly announcing it was ten years since he had vanished off of the Earth, literally speaking and reappearing here, wherever the fuck here was - and by the scant amount of information the _bambina_ had told him, he was in Japan, of all the fucking places.

Whatever that mojo that transported them in time and place was, the assholes who cast it better be ready for Xanxus' wrath when - not if, but when - Xanxus and his little _famiglia_ find their way back to their place and time, because Xanxus would fry them into _smithereens_ ifs, and or buts.

Suffice to say, Xanxus' temper was steadily climbing up and up those days, and it was only a matter of time when it would explode. This time, he wouldn't allow his shitty gut to ban him from going the fuck down to the basement and find his _piccola sorella._

Fuck the danger.

Fuck that noise.

He was Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine and he was nobody's scaredy cat!

* * *

Harry was feeling restless. Glancing at the sign on his hand and wondering why the people with which he came into contact didn't comment on the crimson red sigil yet - the bisected triangle with a circle within was surely bizarre enough to be commented on when he had gone out to buy food for Kariya and himself. However, people simply overlooked the sign for some reason, which both reassured and unnerved Harry in the same measure.

The sigil was just as vivid as it had been on the day Harry had somehow gotten it, although there was a short period of time when the sigil had vanished in all that mess with that dark, golden-eyed shadow, along with Archer.

(Harry had been concerned. His friends and Xanxus, surprisingly, were _not_ , much to Harry's frustration and the four bastards' quiet satisfaction.)

And now, he was about to participate in that insane small-scale war, whether he liked it or not. Luckily Kariya had dragged Berry away with him - for some reason, Berry rather liked to stick to Harry like glue, even if he was a little bit shy about body contact. Kariya's eyes just about boggled out of his skull when Berry growled at him when he tried to check Harry's health when the green-eyed wizard returned back, looking both harrowed and mortified at the same time.

He didn't know how to Summon the Servant, though. Kariya was rather tight-lipped about _that_ information, much to Harry's frustration. So the only way to get a Servant, really, was for Harry to get into deadly dangerous situation and pray that his strange luck would win over his misfortune.

 _Or... maybe he could just improvise on the issue._ Harry paused at the though. Last time, he didn't have anything fancy to Summon Archer with - there was just his blood and that strange stone Harry was still wearing on a chain around his neck out of sentimental reasons and maybe some place to Summon the guy and some weapons wouldn't be amiss... well, just in case.

His inner Hermione was screeching with alarm at the idea _. 'This is **magic** , Harry, magic has rules! Do you really want to combust into billion little pieces!?'_ Harry shuddered. Death with being blown to prafactors, yeah, no. But on the other hand, he didn't want to be dependent on Kariya anymore. The poor guy was already on his last legs because he had to support Berserker all by his lonesome. Sure, 'loaning' Berry from Kariya Harry had lightened a load on him somewhat, but still, the odds were too skewed to be good, in Harry's humble opinion.

"So, I need a knife, a place and _hmm,_ a catalyst." Harry hummed to himself as he rifled about their tiny abode to find something more or less appropriate for his nefarious intentions. Luck was with him, as he found a small pocket knife that was still surprisingly sharp. And as luck would've been with him, Kariya was once again away with Berserker, so Harry was free to scuttle out with the intention to realize his insane little plan.

It shouldn't have been _that_ hard, should it?

* * *

The park was quiet and eerily silent in the night. Privately, Harry felt a little bit guilty for his little escape, and prayed that Kariya wouldn't have had a heart attack upon reading his little message - Harry had been intentionally vague about where he would be going, not that it would stop the stalker duo any. Harry was already lucky that he had managed to avoid them for so long.

The full moon was hiding behind a small cloud and the surroundings were almost eerily quiet. Harry, however, wasn't bothered about silence - he would take one public park over Forbidden Forest any day.

Looking at the small knife in his hand, Harry grimaced at the thought what he was about to do. Blood was quite magical substance for a reason, and after that last year, Harry was not really willing to spill more of his blood than necessary.

"Here goes nothing." He murmured to himself before hissing as he made a quick but deep slice on his right palm. Dropping the knife on the ground he awkwardly removed the necklace from his neck and dipped the cold piece of crystal into the blood.

A minute passed. Harry's palm, where he cut himself, stung. Blood was welling about the crystal, red as always, and completely ordinary by appearance. Green eyes looked at the clenched fist before Harry looked at the moon.

"Archer. I don't know why, but I seem to be in a shitload of trouble again, and I need help." Swallowing back a dry gulp, Harry continued. "I found out about Grail War and as luck would have had it, I am one of the Masters to participate in the shit show for that glorified cup of doom. A father of my friend had once to us said that we shouldn't trust something if we don't know where it hides its brain." The green eyed wizard grimaced at the memory of the diary. "I don't have the ritual, but last time, I haven't summoned you with ritual, either, so I am going into this blind, dumb and deaf. Here's to hoping that our luck holds, eh?" Closing his eyes, Harry squeezed the stone and waited for the surge of energy announcing the arrival of his Servant.

One minute... two minutes. _Five_ minutes.

Nothing happened. Harry's eyebrow twitched.

"Are you trying to Summon your Servant?" An unknown voice asked, and Harry would deal to the day he died that he just about jumped out of his proverbial skin with a very unmanly yelp.

Turning around in the same breath, wide green eyes took into a man, clad in skin tight dark teal one piece suit with leather protection on his tights. The man's arms were bare, but what concerned Harry the most, was two long, sharp spears in the stranger's hands.

One red and one golden, the golden one emitting a soft warm glow.

"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne." His own mouth blurted out before Harry even knew what he was speaking.

Golden eyes widened. "You know my name, Harry Potter?" The man stepped closer, and Harry scurried back, his own eyes wide. The man was extremely handsome, to the point it was unnatural.

"You have two spears and you are practically steeped in magic. " Harry pointed out, still careful to dodge if the man - Diarmuid - proved to be hostile.

Elegant dark eyebrows rising, the man approached. "Not many people ought to know my name in this era. Say, why are you one of those that do?"

Harry felt his cheeks head. "W-Well, when I was a little, I've read about Irish legends…" Harry felt his blush deepen at Diarmuid's amused gaze at his person.

" 'Tis is as good reason as any, lad." Diarmuid let out a good-natured chuckle. "Tough I have to admit your encounter with my Master was thoroughly amusing." He grinned at Harry's deer-in-headlights look of surprise. "Oh, don't be so surprised, it was funny and both of us know it. But I thought you already Summoned your Servant?" The teal clad man asked kindly, and Harry relaxed a little.

"Berry is my friend's Servant." He admitted but then grimaced. "Kariya is a mother hen, and it doesn't help we've lost contact for some ten years. I was practically thrown into this mess of a Grail War which I think spooked him further. So he didn't let me go until I promised him to have Berry along the ride, so to speak."

Diarmuid thoughtfully hummed. "Ah, so that was why did you have… _Berry_ … along." Golden eyes sparked with mischief when Harry threw him a mortified glare. "Master was … extremely displeased about your naming sense." He watched, amused, as his target jerked up, green eyes huge with wounded pride.

"I'll have you know I _so_ can name things!" Harry drew himself up as much as he could, but he was still tiny in comparison with the tall Servant. "At least Hedwig doesn't complain about hers!" He grumbled petulantly sulking a little when he heard Diarmuid's quiet chuckles waft across the air. "But I suppose you are not here to just chit-chat with me."

"I am not," Diarmuid admitted freely, surprising Harry further. "My Master ordered me to find out more about you and your Servant… so imagine my surprise when you told me you haven't got one yet."

Harry wanted to sink into himself. "Blame Kariya." He grumbled. "The ass doesn't want to tell me how to do the ritual correctly and I was flying by the seat of my pants what with summoning Archer. "

Diarmuid tilted his head. "Why Archer? You could just as easily Summon the other classes - aside Lancer, Caster and Berserker, I think you have your pick of the classes. What made you choose Archer out of all classes?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not that I chose Archer… rather, I think Archer chose _me."_

Well, that was a surprise. "Archer chose _you?"_ Diarmuid was sincerely dubious of that idea. Considering just _who_ had an Archer as their Servant…

Harry's smile was fond, surprising Diarmuid with its gentleness. "You wouldn't believe it, but yeah. Kind of. I mean, he saved me from the mafia."

This time it was Diarmuid's turn to be surprised. _Archer?_ Saving this tiny slip of a teen from Mafia? _That_ Archer?

"Ah. So you two bonded." He hedged along, his face neutral. "In a way we did, "Harry agreed, that smile still on his face. "The circumstances weren't ideal, but he appeared in front of me and took the mafia out. Just like that." Then, he giggled with amusement when he remembered both Archer's and Kiritsugu's reactions to each other that fine day.

Diarmuid was silent. "So what makes you think you will manage to Summon _him_ once again?" His gaze on Harry's form was serious to the point of being hard, but the young man in front of him ignored it.

Harry's smile was half-sheepish, half-fond. "I hope our luck would hold out once more, however crappy it is." That was another of the idiosyncrasies that didn't match. _That_ Archer had an EX –rank luck. There shouldn't have been any trouble with Summoning him if Harry wished so, but why then…? Still thinking about this strange puzzle Diarmuid was interrupted in his musing when he accidentally looked into those hopeful green eyes looking up at him. "Could you help me? Please?"

Diarmuid grimaced. "Are you sure you want to Summon Archer? The guy is not exactly – " He tried to hedge, but Harry glared at him. "I _do_." Harry's voice didn't leave any place to doubt. "I want to Summon him."

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Dead silence._

" _How much can we be sure Xanxus is not his great-many times grandkid?" Archer EMIYA muttered to Waver, who was gently rubbing his temple._

" _Sadly, those two are completely unrelated." Waver's grumpy tone was full of suffering as he glared at the rowdy duo who was currently engaged in an extremely heated game of poker. Waver then glared at Archer EMIYA. "Now, if we were talking about_ you _…" Waver began silkily, causing Archer EMIYA to hurriedly backpedal in horror._

 _"No. No, no and_ no. _Nope. Not in a million years." Archer EMIYA denied, a bead of sweat running down his temple. Waver stared at him, causing Archer EMIYA to sweat some more, the turned away from the white-haired Counter Guardian. "I am just a fake - in fact, I am King of Fakers, really – "_

" _You are not king of_ anything, _mongrel/trash" Sounded the stereo from the poker-playing duo. Twin red glares found their target in the heavily sweating white-haired Counter Guardian._

 _Speechless, Waver looked at Archer EMIYA. "You know, I think I will redo their parentage tests …. Just to be sure." He stated, turning around, heedless of Archer EMIYA's desperate gestures to cease his latest mission._


	59. Chapter 59

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters, but I do own the story.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ _Wheew._ Another one bites the dust. Diarmuid wanted his chance and then Archer. And Xanxus is setting up to make spectacular trouble, but whether he will be the hero on white horse or not, is still in the wings. (And Word Office is steadily calling Diarmuid _Dairy maid._.. Of all things / _sweatdrops.._./)

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, a warning, never try to write so many characters at once and Harry has secrets. Archer also has his own little snit. (He was due to it, honestly.)

* * *

 _It won't ever change if you want it to stay the same  
I really hate it but I know it's hard to choose if you're chained  
And when it's all you control 'cause you've got nothing else to hold  
You're getting tighter and tighter, it's getting harder to let it go_

 _I don't want to know  
I just want to run to you  
And break off the chains, and throw them away  
I just want to be so much  
And shake off the dust that turned me to rust  
Sooner than later, I'll need a saviour  
I'll need a saviour_

 _Stand me up and maybe I won't be so small  
Free my hands and feet and maybe I won't always fall  
Save me_

( _'Saviour'_ by _Lights_ )

* * *

This was, as most of Harry's ideas were wont to do, a stupid idea. Not that they didn't pan out in the end, but there was a principle of things.

 _It. Was. A. Stupid. Idea._ However that didn't detract it from the fact it was also a necessary one, considering he was alone in a strange land, with no allies or funds to speak of, and if luck hold to its usual trend when it concerned Harry, he would certainly be dragged into the mini-war in the making.

He studiously ignored that golden glare, full of concerned disapproval - Archer wasn't _that_ bad, honestly - and stared back at Diarmuid stubbornly, until the man sighed with defeat as he rubbed his forehead with exasperation.

"Right. You want to summon _him."_ Diarmuid muttered, his voice curiously flat about the idea.

But Harry perked up with hope. "So does that mean you will help?" He asked, green eyes bright with anticipation.

Diarmuid's shoulders slumped. "Someone has to, and it may as well be me," He replied gallantly, futilely trying to ignore Harry's happy smile beaming at him.

"And so, you will need the catalyst, your blood and summoning circle along with a chant. All of them together act as a lock to the passage for the Heroic Spirit to materialize here, and your blood also additionally anchors it in the material world." Diarmuid explained, his words short and succinct.

Harry groaned. "It's always about a blood, isn't it. You would've thought the whole lot of you are goddamn vampires." He complained as he looked around for a good place for the darned thing. "But alright, how are we doing that? The summoning circle first, right?"

Wordlessly, Diarmuid nodded. "I will take care of it…" He hesitated. Harry eyed him again. "But?"

There was always some kind of a but in that kind of things. Honestly, Harry was getting worryingly used to it.

"It needs your blood. A lot of it." And Diarmuid, to Harry's annoyance, was still stalling. Harry felt his irritation rising.

"Define a lot." Harry deadpanned. He watched Diarmuid flounder a little. "Uhm. It's _a lot_ , though!" Diarmuid hedged, earning Harry's unimpressed glare.

"Then a lot of it will be given. Is that all?" Harry's green eyes were almost twin swords, what with how cold and sharp they were. "You know, for a Heroic Spirit, you are surprisingly squeamish about blood." He remarked.

Flushing with surprise, Diarmuid spluttered. _Why_ , that cheeky little brat - !

* * *

When Diarmuid said they would need _a lot_ of blood, he wasn't kidding. Luckily, Diarmuid was able to replicate the summoning circle, the shallow graves of it were slowly being filled with Harry's blood running out of the slice on his forearm - Diarmuid was hovering in the background like concerned mother hen, worrying and fretting, but Harry tuned him out, even when his senses were slowly beginning to dull from the blood loss. Wistfully, he thought about having a blood replenisher or two on hand, but it was just is crappy luck he was out of wizarding commonalities at the moment.

Finally - finally it ended, and in front of them, there was a dark circle, smelling of iron and something sweet and bitter - not exactly unpleasant scent, but not an ordinary one, either. Harry's breathing was shallow, his chest barely rising and falling, the cut on his forearm still stinging him like there was no tomorrow and he felt hollow. Still, he forced himself to ignore the senses, focusing instead on the ritual as he slowly began to speak the lines he had memorized half an hour before, Diarmuid a mute shadow against his back.

' _Well. All or nothing.'_ With that grim thought in mind, Harry launched himself into the chant.

" _Let silver and steel be the essence._

 _Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation._

His voice was firm, steady and calm, as if he were talking about the weather and not doing something that could, in Diarmuid's humble opinion, blow him apart in the hundred ways and more.

Or end with Harry being impaled by Archer's …. _Throwing implements._

But _no,_ the green-eyes teenager forger forward, almost unnervingly still in the face of an unknown.

Maybe, Diarmuid pondered, there was some kind of truth in Harry's words about him being Archer's friend.

" _Let green be the color I pay tribute to - "_

And for some reason, the color sounded ominous, for something that was usually associated with life. But this one's meaning was apparently anything but.

" _Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall._

 _Let the four cardinal gates close."_

Harry was already feeling the strain, the judgement and the pressure building on his shoulders, an invisible giant trying to press him onto the ground, for disrespecting nature's eternal laws, calling out the dead back into life.

Breathe. Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe through the pain. _Focus._

Continue.

" _Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

 _Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword."_

In Harry's mind, he pictured Archer, those steel grey eyes looking at him, that unusual white mop of hair and tall form surprisingly graceful for its height.

He swallowed the instinctual disgust of enslaving a cognizant being. Because that was what the Summoning in its essence was. Enslaving.

Instead, he focused at his memories of Archer, his laughter, his snarky remarks and passion for cooking, everything that made Archer _Archer_ \- Harry's cherished friend and confidant, even for such a short time they had been together.

How he felt, his warmth underneath Harry's body when they cuddled - Harry refused to blush, it just wasn't done - those dry, warm, soft lips on his, and why the hell was he now _thinkingabouthiskisswith_ _ **Archer**_ _ofallpeople -_

The wind picked up, from a soft, gentle whistle to a howl of the awakening beast full of blood thirst, ready, willing and able to tear apart everything in front of it -

" _Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail._

 _Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."_

Diarmuid's own being was being forced, squeezed, explained for its merits and demerits of the deeds he had done a lifetime ago. It was an unstoppable force, pulling him toward Harry, that strange energy he emanated, but instead of it being thick and hard, it was more ethereal and light, an _aurora borealis_ , seen and felt, yet Diarmuid's senses were exempt of feeling its true force being thrust upon his being, but Diarmuid felt a yearning so strong it clogged his throat and hitched his breath.

And he wished to answer that call.

In a short time he had been with Harry, he got a measure of the youth - and Harry was honest, straightforward to almost painful degree and so, so very _loyal._

He envied the King of Heroes for somehow earning that young man's loyalty in such measure Harry had even dared to enact the ritual in order to snatch him away from Tohsaka -

His pupils widened as he looked at the fragile form in front of him - fragile for him, yet right not, it seemed - at least to him - more majestic than the mightiest of kings in his own time.

So breakable and yet not, at the same time, a strange dichotomy that shouldn't exist but it did.

" _An oath shall be sworn here._

 _I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;_

 _I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."_

Harry's voice was almost lost in the wind's howl, and even Diarmuid's keen ears had trouble with hearing the green eyed man's voice in all that preternatural noise.

The pressure fell even lower while the circle glowed with an ethereal color that would usually be connected to the magic of Ireland, instead it felt colder, broken and _distorted -_

The green, that terrifying green brightened into a painful white color, a glowing star on the verge of bursting open and then, the light blinded both of them, Diarmuid swallowing back a curse when his eyes suffered an overload of optical stimulation.

And then, the noise abruptly voided itself out, and its absence was even more jarring than its previously overbearing howling about.

Blinking, Diarmuid attempted get used to the change in visibility as fast as possible, the bright spots still dancing in front of his eyes.

Diarmuid's jaw dropped.

He may or may have not mouthed out a very ugly curse word - but he was a knight, and it was beneath knights to curse, but this situation really warranted a strong word or two, so he could be forgiven for being negligent of his knightly duties.

But the form in front of him wasn't the familiar one of Golden Bastard in question. Instead, it was a form of a man, clad in a mixture of red and black with some accents in white – black under armor with red half-tunic half-cloak with long open triangular sleeves. The tunic's main body reached to the middle of man's tights and was half-opened in front of his chest almost to his belt. On the chest,there dangled a small triangular red stone, similar to the one that Harry had clutched in his hand scant moments prior. The tunic was further on decorated with a wide black-edged embroidery in dark grey. On the man's head, there was a red cowl framing his tanned face. There was also an unobtrusive decoration of a white rope held by two stylized crosses in the shape of ankh below the shoulders under the man's throat. His legs were clad in black trousers with equally as black knee-high boots.

In one hand, this newest person held a strangely shaped bow made of an unknown material, that was almost reminiscing on a recurve one by its shape, but without any additional doodads of its modern version. Strangely, though, there was no arrow present.

Closed eyes under white eyebrows slowly fluttered open as the newest Servant exhaled.

"I ask you…" The man's face was low and stern, and there was something in it that made Diarmuid almost want to step back -

"Are you my Mast - _Harry!"_ Steel gray eyes widened with shock and the strange Archer hurriedly stepped out of the summoning circle, barely in time to catch the swaying wizard in his arms, the bow in his left hand vanishing off into unknown.

(And Diarmuid wasn't jealous. It was just… those two were strangely intimate already, and it was throwing him out of the loop.)

"Long time no see, Archer." Harry rasped back, a small smirk on his all too pale face. "Glad to have you back in trouble."

Archer had the gall - the _gall,_ seriously! - to _roll_ his eyes at his Master. But Diarmuid forced himself to be silent. It was not his place to interfere. Not really.

"When are you _not_ ever in trouble?" The man - Archer - grumbled as he pushed the cowl back, revealing a shock of white hair. He shook his head with fond exasperation at Harry's small glare at his person. "But I didn't think you would be so much into it to Summon me back into Grail War." He teased the wizard, smirking at the pouting teenager teasingly.

"Fourth one."

Two words that immediately wiped the smirk off of Archer's face.

 _"Shit."_

Diarmuid eyed the duo curiously. There was something amiss, and it wasn't only them being familiar with each other.

He was pinned under the weight of those gray eyes, unnervingly similar to steel in their color.

"And who is your companion?" The red-clad servant asked, in an obvious attempt to derail the conversation to safer waters, but still holding Harry in his hold like one would an oversized teddy bear. Harry looked back at Diarmuid at the inquiry, his eyes wide embarrassment and alarm, but both emotions flitting across his face were a little bit too dull to be expressed properly due to his blood loss.

"Archer, this is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Diarmuid, this is Archer, my friend and Servant in this Holy Grail mess I've recently gotten myself into."

Diarmuid gently inclined his head. "Pleased to meet you… Archer." He added the last one as if in afterthought, but honestly, it was strange to think that this man was in any way similar to the golden-clad one back in the church. He was an Archer in true sense of the words, what with him having a bow, if not arrows, while the Golden Archer had nothing of the sort… but that didn't mean a whit in this strange game of theirs.

"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne… Lancer?" Archer asked, his white eyebrows quirking up in askance.

"At your service." Diarmuid didn't know why ( _lies_ ), but he stepped forward, so that both of them unconsciously sandwiched the green eyed curiosity between them as they glared into each other's eyes.

Suddenly, Harry made a choking sound, and his energy, that was beginning to ebb, surged up again. The surge was so strong and fast that cause both of the Servants feel dizzy with it's appearance, but just as fast as it came, it also ended.

"Dammit, you truly _are_ a trouble magnet." Archer groused at the little burden at his hands and was once again greeted by Harry's glare for his complaint.

"Pot calling kettle black." Harry snarked back." He wiggled a bit in their hold - somehow, Diarmuid's hands found their grip on Harry's hips . "Now, I if your royal highness don't mind. I would like to keep the rest of my blood in my veins."

* * *

After a minor bout of panic, Harry's wound had been taken care of - albeit he had to suffer through Archer's little freak out about Harry using so much blood in one more go in the meantime.

Now, all three of them were sitting on the nearby bench, Harry's back against Archer's chest as the man embraced him around his waist, sharing the warmth and energy with the exhausted wizard, while Diarmuid sat beside them,looking at the duo.

"Harry, What happened?" Archer finally asked a note of concern in his voice.

Harry grimaced. "A clusterfuck." He replied grimly. "At first, everything seemed to be alright, aside you vanishing to gods know where." He cut a small glare at Archer, who grimaced and nodded, chastised. "Then, one day, those three idiots had a bright idea to get me to visit one of the hills at ass o'clock - " Harry grumbled, peeved, and Archer's lights twitched an entertained smirk at Diarmuid's scandalized face.

"- and when we came on the top of the hill, there was a strange energy sucking us into some kind of vortex and placing us in some kind of a ritual." Harry continued grouchily, as he messed his hair with a hand, visibly frustrated at the situation. "You remember that strange, wisp-like energy?" He addressed Archer, who immediately sobered as his mind searched for any information on it.

"Yes. What of it?" Archer involuntarily tensed in anticipation of bad news, but fought to keep his body relaxed as not to alarm Harry to his anger.

"From what Kariya could surmise, it turned out that they were doing some kind of a ritual and us having a similar energy really botched it up." Harry grimaced at the memory. "We were summoned onto the location, and all that energy they gathered slammed first into Kirei, Kiritsugu and Soichiro, before it got to me. The next thing I knew was that I was in a shoddy hut in a strange land ten years in future and without anything or anyone to boot."

Archer blinked as he comprehended the facts. "… Wait. Are you trying to tell me that not only did the mess happen when you were in Italy, but that it relocated you - _time-wise_ \- ten years into the _future?"_ He asked, incredulous.

"Yup." Harry fake-chirped, enjoying the furnace-like warmth of Archer's body against his own. Seriously, his friends were for some reason really convenient when it came to warming him up…not that Harry complained… much.

"As far as I can tell you are no Heroic Spirit." Diarmuid addressed Harry, dark eyebrows furrowing in a frown. "But I haven't heard about time travelling either." He shrugged apologetically at the duo. Smiling slightly, Harry shook his head at him. "It's not your fault, so don't worry about it." He placated Diarmuid, causing the golden-eyed man to breathe a silent sigh of relief as he smiled back at Harry.

Harry felt Archer's arms tighten around his middle a little bit more. "But you have to _be_ something if you survived it." Diarmuid knew he was going a little too far with this question, and by Archer's tension he shouldn't have expected any answer to his not-question.

"I am." Harry easily agreed. " But I will not tell you, sorry. We are on the opposite sides and you would be obliged to tell any information to the cactus you have to call your Master." He gave amused Diarmuid an apologetic smile, but his eyes were not repentant at all for the slip of his tongue.

Archer let out an undignified sound, something between choke and a laugh. "Really, Harry? _Really?_ Not that I _mind,_ but do you _really_ think it's wise to make enemies that soon in the game?" He teased Harry, only for Harry to turn his head up to look at him. "It's never too early to make enemies of pompous pricks." Harry announced snootily, looking down his nose at Archer who was now grinning, while Diarmuid was blushing with mortification at the behest of his Master. "Harry, you…" Diarmuid wouldn't admit, but his accusation was almost a whine.

"You are not at fault, Dia. That El Melloi King of Pricks, on the other hand – "

"Stop." Archer interrupted him, his eyes intent, but glittering with repressed mirth. "You call _Kayneth El-Melloi_ a _cactus_ of all things?" He seemed a little too bit entertained at this point, as he placed his chin on Harry's right shoulder. Harry hummed. "He is too big of a prick to be anything else."

"Oh." Archer muffled his voice in Harry's neck, but even then, Harry more than felt the muffled giggles in that single word." "What I wouldn't have given to see that."

"It was _glorious,"_ Diarmuid agreed, his white teeth flashing in a devilish grin as he swung one of his legs over another to cross them as he leaned back, looking at the moon wistfully when he recalled the memory in question. "Master tried to humble him for bumping into his fiancé – "

"- Which I _didn't,_ not really," Harry interjected before Diarmuid continued on "- and then, Harry looked at him, positively tiny and adorable, and said: " _I've met many pricks in my life, but_ you _, sir, are a fucking_ cactus _."_ Diarmuid finished triumphantly, and Archer couldn't hold it in him anymore. He practically exploded with laughter, large guffaws rolling from his belly through his chest. Harry, contrarily to being amused himself, blushed fire-engine red, his eyes wide with mortification.

"Oh, I-I can't!" Archer finally wheezed out. "I'd pay anything to see it…you against El-Melloi in all of your tiny, adorably fluffy glory," he teased Harry, who was now hiding his face in his hands, mortified at Diarmuid's dramatic retelling of his feat.

"Dia, you freaking _ass!"_ Harry kicked the tattle-teling golden-eyed Heroic spirit, with Diarmuid allowing Harry to wreak his tiny revenge on his person. He was a Heroic Spirit, humans couldn't really hurt him anyhow, and Harry was more of a fluffy annoyed kitten at that point than anything else.

"And Dia?" Diarmuid volleyed back. "What is up with that?" He was truly curious why did Harry shorten his name.

Harry apologetically tilted his chin. "It seems rude of me to call you Lancer when I know your name." He admitted. "Diarmuid is too eye-catching of a name, and I thought Dia would be, like, some kind of a nickname – "His rambling was then silenced by Diarmuid's pointer finger on his lips, the man smelling of leather and forests, if there existed such a scent. "I don't mind." Diarmuid smiled at Harry gently. "In fact, it would be my honor to be your friend, for however short time we have allotted together."

Relieved, Harry beamed back at him.

Neither of the trio noticed a small shadow slinking up to Harry's ankle like a quicksilver snake, darker than black, and noiselessly settling around his ankle before seeping into the skin, leaving behind nothing but an unmarred surface.

* * *

"You are a bundle of trouble, Harry." Archer addressed the green eyed wizard when they were heading back to Harry's temporary hovel with Kariya. He was a little bit troubled that Harry had bonded with the Servant of Spear so easily, to the extent to being allowed to call him Dia, of all things. Names had power, and some would argue that Lancer was extremely stupid to let his true name to slip out so easily. Bus as harry had explained it to him, he had recognized Diarmuid by the virtue of the latter having two spears - not many heroes had two spears and that strangely magnetic aura like Diarmuid had. Archer had been concerned at first, but Harry had waved his concerns off, saying that if he could throw off _Imperio_ , then Dia's little trick may as well be non-existent to him.

Archer had to concede that point - he had seen Harry's life, and it had been no picnic in the park. _Imperio_ may as well be some kind of a _geas_ , only depending on the wills of the caster and their victim.

(And he was a tiny, little bit jealous of Harry calling that shitty Lancer by his name. Archer was there _first,_ dammit!)

"Yes, well, seems like kind of a curse to me." Harry agreed shrugging in what-can-you-do motion. "But you apparently had a fashion overhaul." He motioned at Archer's wardrobe choices. "What's up with that?"

Archer sighed as he remembered.

* * *

 _Throne of Heroes was confusing place. There, gathered together, was the very best and very worst of the mankind. Some could say if there existed Heaven, it would be likened to that place - and incidentally, if Hell had to be described, this very same place would've suited the name just perfectly._

 _Some thought of it like Elysion, the plane where Heroes resided, enjoying the fruits of their labor on earth. Some of them described it as Valhalla, the giant house where mightiest of warriors came home to after finishing their cycle of life to be rewarded and to brush up their own skills against other heroes in expectation of Ragnarok happening again. Some imagined it as peaceful garden full of incomparable beauty and some feared it as the place where demons dwelt, awaiting the unfortunate souls to take and amuse themselves with via torturing them for all eternity._

 _Whatever it was, the only thing anyone could consent to, was that the Throne existed ever since time immemorial and would remain to exist as such until the end of time._

 _Rare were such people who had privilege to eye that mysterious place and then return back to report their findings. Even Servants themselves, if questioned, couldn't explain anything about it, no matter how willing they were to divulge its secrets._

 _What it was known - Throne of Heroes_ existed _, in all times and places - likened to a house with many entrances but very few exits._

 _Archer, however, had an ample time and chances to explore them. Contrarily to one's expectations, being a Counter Guardian wasn't solely butchering up masses of people in the name of some extremely cruel nameless entity and angsting about it afterwards, but it also allowed Heroic Spirits to contact each other if they so wished, to traverse across tiny realms in which they resided, like some kind of books or weapons - thing was, one couldn't intrude on one, that was more powerful than the intruder. That wouldn't be suicidal - legends were called legends for a reason._

 _As a Counter Guardian, Archer had glimpsed many of them many more times than he cared to, and all the routes and passages engraved themselves in his brain when he passed through them on the way to one or another of his jobs._

 _Throne, in and of itself, was more reminiscent to an impenetrable fortress, drifting between all the times and places, some kind of a crossroad to where Heroes gathered and parted, never remembering their time within the Throne when they were recalled back to life - be they as shades of themselves or in their more potent incarnations of Heroic Spirits._

 _Archer didn't have the luxury of forgetting. He, who traded his freedom, his peaceful afterlife to help, was cursed to drift in and out of different times and places like Ahasver the Ever Wanderer. He was cursed to remember, yet not to attain the freedom he had longed for so. His contract with Gaia was iron-clad, but he was patient. It would take one chance. Just one._

 _Turned out that one chance came prematurely and crashed and burned just as easily._

 _When he had gotten back to the Throne, Archer was fit to be tied, so pissed off he was. Something had apparently sapped him of his mana to the point his physical body ceased exist in that reality, causing him to... really, die in a fit of narcolepsy, courtesy of his lack of mana. This was... not how Archer imagined himself to go. In fact, it was, even if it was a kind death - kinder than most of his previous ones - extremely shameful one._

 _So he welcomed the next mission Gaia sent his way with open arms and completed it with an extreme prejudice. He was angry, worried and irritated, not having any kind of insight what was happening to Harry (and to lesser extent his group of misfits. But mostly Harry.)_

 _Time didn't have any meaning in the Throne; it could run forward or it could run backward or even sideways up or down. An ordinary mortal couldn't comprehend it because it wasn't meant to be comprehended. And for Archer, time became his greatest solace and worst enemy at once._

 _But he would wait, for that tiny window of opportunity to open again and then squeeze himself into physical form and kill his other self before the brat did the stupid and cemented his idiotic ideal even further into his block-headed brain._

 _(Willfully, he ignored that he, in essence was_ _ **that**_ _brat and self-suicide was never a way to go, not for him. All the roads ended in misery that way )_

 _The Call came, and Archer braced himself for pain. There was always pain, when he was being stripped off of everything he was and then threaded back together, but all wrong, wrong_ wrong –

 _-and this time, surely there would be no difference._

 _But much to his surprise, the Call this time was... unusual._

 _The energy that usually ripped him apart was held on bay, his physical form was being constructed flawlessly and carefully, stronger, better, faster and just_ more _than he had ever been as a Heroic Spirit. It was like that first time when he contracted Gaia, but this particular Contract wasn't ripping him into shreds, and instead, it was building him up with feather-like touches when he felt the breeze on his face and heard whispering of the trees in his ears._

 _Archer would've wanted to stay in that gentle cocoon forever, but work was work, and reluctantly, he opened his eyes._

 _And there, pale and supported by some green-clad pretty dandy with golden eyes, was Harry, smiling at him, welcoming him_ _ **home.**_

* * *

"I suppose it reflect the way you've summoned me." He replied, vague on purpose.

"You are not telling me everything." Damn, but since when did Harry became so perspective? Inwardly Archer winced, expecting Harry to glare at him any moment now.

But much to Archer's surprise when Harry turned to him, there was a small smile on his face. "But that's okay. I am just glad I got you back." Harry then scowled. "Kariya didn't want to tell me how to do the summoning, that asshole."

"And within good reason, too." Archer snapped back. "What were you even _thinking,_ doing the summoning via directly letting blood into the circle along with summoning magic? You could've _blown_ yourself _up_ or died of loss of blood or - !"

"I am not that lucky." Harry replied back dryly, and Archer felt his heart stutter at the truth in that little statement. Harry had the worst luck and within that worst luck, he had the best chances of survival. But still, that didn't mean Archer liked his odds any better than before!

"Well, anyway, those clothes suit you, I suppose." Harry gave Archer an once-over and there was a faint warmth in Archer's cheeks as he tried to halt that blush. "Though, where do you have your.. arrows?" he blinked, confused at the lack of quiver and arrows.

"Pocket space." Archer smirked cheekily at Harry's groan of exasperation. Green eyes glared back at the Counter guardian with surprising amount of determination.

"One day, I will know and I _will_ replicate it." Harry promised him, green eyes flashing with determination.

Smirking with mischief Archer ruffled Harry's hair, causing him to squawk in indignation. "Keep dreaming, kitten. Keep dreaming." He teased Harry, who once again scowled with irritation.

"I am no _kitten,_ dammit!"

* * *

 _ **/Scribble/**_

 _Worms. There were worms_ everywhere. _Goddammit, Xanxus_ hated _those suckers._

 _Everywhere he looked in the basement's pit were worms. Now he knew why was the basement locked down, to keep those horrific abominations of nature away from humans._

 _If he hadn't used Wrath Flames to keep them away from himself, he would've been devoured, dead as a door nail, no use to anyone, much less of Iri._

 _And he still hadn't found Iri._

 _This was shaping to be a clusterfuck. Xanxus mumbled yet another curse under his breath. Kirei would have a heyday with bar soap and washing out Xanxus mouth with it, Xanxus just knew it. The priest had a horrifying ability to know when Xanxus cursed, and gleefully doled out the soapy water to have Xanxus gargle it to … ahem, was the curses out of his mouth. Xanxus still cringed when he remembered that punishment, but really, he wasn't cursing that badly! Honest?_

 _(Kirei though, would beg to differ. But on the sly, he wished to let Xanxus loose on that old Kotomine priest and have him enjoy a stroke or two from suffering Xanxus' foul mouth. Not that Xanxus knew anything of his dastardly plan.)_

 _The red-eyed boy kept a steady layer of Wrath Flames above his skin, not letting it fall even for a moment. So long as he had that little shielding ability up, the worms would leave him well alone, so that they wouldn't be fried into oblivion. Strangely enough, they didn't raise alarm, which was a tiny blessing in all that goddamn mess Xanxus voluntarily walked into ever since he had found himself in the mansion._

 _But he was beginning to get tired - containing Wrath Flames for so long and on such a low burner was exhausting, as his control wasn't that good yet. But if he didn't want to be found - be by that small blue-haired brat or his taller adult copy (both of them annoying as fuck,)– he had to keep his wits up and about._

 _The smell pervading the place was similar to the one of crushed cicadas on hot summer asphalt - overpowering, ever-present, disgusting scent that wafted from the darkness of the pit to up into the alcove where Xanxus was hiding himself. It cloyed his nostrils and Xanxus wanted to barf. But he didn't. Even if it was unpleasant, rotten corpses were often smelling even worse._

 _(Xanxus would know.)_

 _That ever-present silence was one thing that was wholly unnatural in that house. Xanxus didn't know just how didn't its occupants have gone mad yet. Or maybe they had, but pretended well enough to be thought of as normal._

 _His Flames rebelled under his iron hold, wanting to rush out and devour the abnormalities, to irrevocably destroy them. Xanxus winced. Being a Sky, it was difficult enough to reign in the Flames' instincts - it was like they were a sixth limb on his body - but add to that his own were the Wrath ones - unyielding little fuckers - and Xanxus was really very, very lucky he hadn't been caught yet._

 _That little soulless girl appeared, her aquamarine eyes void of all feelings as she gazed at into the darkness at the bottom. And then, to Xanxus' horror, she began her descent via the ladder into the pit._


	60. Chapter 60

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own characters, but I am making merry with them in this story.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I am currently cackling with glee because my eyebags have eyebags, and story refused to be written at first, but it seems this chapter really wanted go its own way. Just warning: _Don't Do Any Of The Stuff Described At Home._ _ **Seriously**_ **.** Also, _**trigger warning**_ for some of descriptions and violence. Don't worry, Kuzuki and Kiritsugu will be back in action... _soon-ish._

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, violence, idiots being idiots and Kirei's trolling habits raise their cute heads. Not beta-read.

 _Do you remember when_

 _You were way back then_

 _You held the world inside your hands_

 _When you told me love_

 _Was the strongest stuff_

 _Your strength was innocence_

 _But, oh man_

 _The signs of the times are omens_

 _You're starting the day in_

 _No man's land again_

 _Grace is high and low_

 _Grace is high and low_

 _Grace is high and low_

 _We'll never be the same_

 _('Innocence again' by Switchfoot)_

* * *

Worms. There were worms _everywhere._ Goddammit, Xanxus _hated_ those suckers.

Everywhere he looked in the basement's pit were worms. Now he knew why was the basement locked down, to keep those horrific abominations of nature away from humans.

If he hadn't used Wrath Flames to keep them away from himself, he would've been devoured, dead as a doornail, no use to anyone, much less of Iri.

And he still hadn't found Iri.

This was shaping to be a clusterfuck. Xanxus mumbled yet another curse under his breath. Kirei would have a heyday with bar soap and washing out Xanxus mouth with it, Xanxus just knew it. The priest had a horrifying ability to know when Xanxus cursed, and gleefully doled out the soapy water to have Xanxus gargle it to … ahem, was the curses out of his mouth. Xanxus still cringed when he remembered that punishment, but really, he wasn't cursing that badly! Honest!

(Kirei though, would beg to differ. But on the sly, he wished to let Xanxus loose on that old Kotomine priest and have him enjoy a stroke or two from suffering Xanxus' foul mouth. Not that Xanxus knew anything of his dastardly plan.)

The red-eyed boy kept a steady layer of Wrath Flames above his skin, not letting it fall even for a moment. So long as he had that little shielding ability up, the worms would leave him well alone, so that they wouldn't be fried into oblivion. Strangely enough, they didn't raise alarm, which was a tiny blessing in all that goddamn mess Xanxus voluntarily walked into ever since he had found himself in the mansion.

But he was beginning to get tired - containing Wrath Flames for so long and on such a low burner was exhausting, as his control wasn't that good yet. But if he didn't want to be found - be by that small blue-haired brat or his taller adult copy (both of them annoying as _fuck,_ )– he had to keep his wits up and about.

The smell pervading the place was similar to the one of crushed cicadas on hot summer asphalt - overpowering, ever-present, disgusting scent that wafted from the darkness of the pit to up into the alcove where Xanxus was hiding himself. It cloyed his nostrils and Xanxus wanted to barf. But he didn't. Even if it was unpleasant, rotten corpses were often smelling even worse.

(Xanxus would _know._ )

That ever-present silence was one thing that was wholly unnatural in that house. Xanxus didn't know just how its occupants haven't gone mad yet. Or maybe they had, but pretended well enough to be thought of as normal.

His Flames rebelled under his iron hold, wanting to rush out and devour the abnormalities, to irrevocably destroy them. Xanxus winced. Being a Sky, it was difficult enough to reign in the Flames' instincts - it was like they were a sixth limb on his body - but add to that his own were the Wrath ones - _unyielding little fuckers_ \- and Xanxus was really very, very lucky he hadn't been caught yet.

That little soulless girl appeared, her aquamarine eyes void of all feelings as she gazed at into the darkness at the bottom. And then, to Xanxus' horror, she began her descent via the ladder into the pit.

Xanxus didn't know what the fuck those worm abominations were, but if his gut blared at him that they were bad, then that was it. There was no messing around with that particular gut feeling. And it just boggled his mind that this soulless girl was doing the stupid - as in descending into that particular pit of eldritch horrors. And judging by the sounds, the said horrors were joyfully anticipating their meal.

But thinking back to his own stay in mansion, Xanxus remembered, that _piccola senza cuore_ always vanished at the evening to gods know where, and his blood ran cold when he finally connected the dots. But she always returned, even if her clothes were in tatters.

Before he knew it, he lurched out of his hiding place and grabbing the girl by her wrist, halting her descent.

"Are you a fucking _idiota!?"_ He barked at her, completely livid at her unresponsiveness. Dull aquamarine eyes looked into his red ones as she tilted her head, uncomprehending of his words.

"This is dangerous, why are you going down, you wanna off yourself?" Xanxus berated her as he yanked her back up, cursing when the pit's inhabitants bristles at being denied their entertainment for the evening. "If you wanna do so, I can give you a _number_ of ways to do it, but _fuck it_ , you would've made a _mess_ outta all of 'em - "

The girl didn't really resist to Xanxus' pull - she was more of a dead weight on his hands than anything else. That both concerned and relieved Xanxus - it was good that she wasn't too averse to his little rescue, but on the other hand, that could also mean she was utterly broken and that was not in Xanxus' calculations -

He was roughly grabbed by the scruff of his neck, causing him to let out a pained yelp, and then Tribble was yanked off of him, almost choking him in the progress.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we finally found a naughty little rat." A silky voice drawled behind him, before he was roughly separated from the girl who was watching the whole debacle with a blank face, seemingly not surprised by the outcome.

"Go back into the pit!" Xanxus' captor barked at her, causing the girl to nod and proceed back to the ladder descending into pit.

Xanxus seethed as he was roughly turned around and a firm hand painfully grabbed his jaw to make him look into his captor's eyes. Red eyes glared into pale blue orbs high above him.

Fuck, it was the blue haired brat's adult copy!

"Little rat, what exactly were you trying to do?" the copy asked Xanxus, a breath, stained with cheap alcohol wafting into Xanxus' face, causing him to scowl even more. Despite his well-tailored clothes, the man was a drunk, plain and simple.

"What's that to ya?" Xanxus snapped, earning himself a backhand that made him dizzy with the force with which it was delivered.

" _Cute,_ little rat." Those freakish pale eyes bore down onto him, thin lips stretching into a pale grin that wouldn't be amiss on a death's skull. "But no matter. You don't need to play a savior, though, if you are curious about darling little Sakura's _beauty rituals_ ," - the man drawled out the last words in a manner that was disgustingly obscene "You could've just said so." Involuntarily, Xanxus' gaze strayed to the pit, and seemingly sensing his curiosity, the copy dragged him to the rim of the pit and there she was, wrapped into worms that where writing about her, swaying and crawling into her, a morbid dress that swallowed her and her clothes, tangling themselves within her hair momentarily before de-tangling out of it like some parody of a loving touch. But the girls' lap - Xanxus had a sick, _sick_ feeling, sicker than the one when he watched prostitutes engaging in some of the _filthier_ services with their patrons because for fuck's sake, this was just a _child_ -

Those worms burrowed deeper, as if relishing Xanxus' horror upon recognizing just what they were doing. Deeper, faster, writhing in ecstasy as Sakura's body arched out involuntarily, the little girl slave to her biological urges, her jaw opened as shudders wracked her childish body.

He must have made some kind of a sound because his captor laughed at him. "Interesting, isn't it? At first, I didn't think so, myself, but it was either her or me, and luckily, she was stronger out of the two of us. If that were me, down there, I would've been a cripple."

Pale blue eyes looked at him. "But you didn't come to look at her, did you?" The man asked, tilting his head, as if looking at a specimen under the magnifying glass. Xanxus so wanted to fry him it wasn't even funny. He forced down the bile in his stomach upon seeing Sakura being violated like this - there was no other words for what was happening in the pit right now.

But, there was also his chance.

"Where is Iri?" He asked, his voice shaking a little as he fought not to lose his temper. The clone blinked. "With my father, of course. Stubborn little thing, really, insisting her brother will come after her."

Xanxus took a chance to deliver a small kick to the man's leg, causing him to stumble and curse, before his throat was choked again. The adult clone's eyes were bright with anger and malice before that disturbing grin lit his facial features once more. Xanxus had seen many ugly and disturbing things in his life but this one took a cake. The man's feelings were also all over the place - smugness and relief and there was a dose of guilt too and this didn't make any fucking kind of _sense._

"Maybe she will be more compliant now, won't she?"

"What have you done to her?" Xanxus' voice was low and dangerous, but to the adult clone it may as well be growling of a cute little puppy.

"She is an _excellent_ battery, you know? All that energy and that bracelet, just _ingenious -_ "

If Xanxus' blood had been chilled from seeing Sakura being submitted to what amounted to a literal _torture_ , then this was nothing in comparison to what he felt now. Because there, off that braggart man's wrist hung one very familiar bracelet, in all of its rose gold and white quartz glory.

 _(Xanxus knew there were only four of them in existence - seven, if one counted his own, Iri's and the one that shitty priest had given away, and all of them having their owners - )_

"Of course, she is still a tad bit _too_ disobedient for my tastes, but no matter. With some tweaks and her mana, Fourth Grail War is as good as won." The clone sniffled haughtily.

Xanxus' eyes were glued to that bracelet, dainty in work, it's incredible craftsmanship subtly enhancing the energy Xanxus was now finally feeling from it, the faintest wisps of green and something he could describe only as _Iri._

"That is my _SISTER_ , you asshole!" He roared, and his hold on the Flames snapped, causing the man to scream with pain when they seared his skin, and then, Xanxus summoned his Wrath claws, skewering them into his stomach and face before he was blasted off the clone via green shield snapping into defense in front of his adversary.

One of the clone's eyes was hollow, the eyeball's contents making a track of clear fluids across his Flame-seared face, his previously aristocratic features twisted in pain and terror.

Growling, Xanxus got off of the floor and launched at the man once again, only for the green Flames to lash against him, shoving him from off of his prey that was hunched into itself on the ground.

The worm's pain and fear-filled cries increased.

Second try was just as successful as the first one - that is to say, not at all. It was as if the bracelet functioned as the clone's personal shield, no matter Xanxus' Flame attacks against it and wasn't that a fucking annoyance.

And Xanxus was losing time. If there was defense, then it was only a matter of time when the coward's offence would began.

True to Xanxus' prediction, clone's next attack was some kind of an electric whip, which Xanxus barely dodged out of range of but not before feeling those Lightning Flames singing his own ones.

And fuck, that _hurt._

* * *

Dull red eyes widened with pain as the force of a foreigner's attacks transferred into her, forcing her to give out more flames and more mana to defend the wearer of the bracelet.

The small slip of an albino girl was chained against the cold wall in a cross position, her neck, wrists and ankles weighed down with heavy manacles and chains. It made her look even tinier than she already was, what with her wearing a white gown, her own clothes having been long disposed of at her arrival.

She felt a dread slip into her heart, despite the pain wracking her body. Whatever those two evil meanies had done, it was messing with both her mana and those pretty green flames her _fratello_ was teaching her about.

The place she had been dumped after that little trip was not pleasant. Sure, it looked intimidating, like Einzbern's castle, but Iri had hoped their occupants would be less severe than the gloom and doom of a manor she had found herself in. Worst thing was, she and fratello had been separated in the process, and she didn't even know where was her papa and his friends!

Whatever it was that had pulled them to… _somewhere,_ it also scattered them out and about for some reason and Iri dearly hoped that her little _famiglia_ was alright.

But her hosts were less than accommodating in their hospitality. Even if Iri acted like she didn't have a clue about anything, this wasn't strictly true.

It didn't take long for her to find out that she was in old Makiri mansion - and if she had any hopes to be let go of, seeing that old worm of a man ditched all her hopes.

 _It hurt._ It hurt, to be treated as a Homunculus, as a doll without any feelings or opinions. It had been so long since anyone had treated her like something less than a human that to Iri, when the old grandfather and his successor had done so, was something of a shock.

That shock morphed into a fear and anxiety when they found out Iri's bracelet and somehow made it work off of Iri's mana and Flames simultaneously. The men didn't know about Flames, thinking it was just her quirk as an Einzbern homunculus, some kind of a self-defense.

 _(They were both wrong and right, not that Irisviel would tell them that.)_

It was pain. Iri missed Harry and Xanxus and Harry's strange friends - heck, at this point, she missed Waver, out of all people - not that Waver was unlikable at all.

Safety was an ephemeral thing when one was not human, and even if one was, there was no guarantee for a person to have it completely.

Another spear of pain snapped through Iri's nerves, causing her eyes to water, bu she stubbornly refused to cry out.

She just had to weather through it and then, there would be a chance to get away from those meanies, especially from the younger blue-haired one.

(The boy gave her _creeps._ Seriously. And she still owed him a slap or two for daring to try and 'play' with her. If it weren't for that ancient worm and the shackles, iri would slap the _shit_ out of the brat.)

The brat's eyes were red. They were unlike any Matou Byakuya had seen on a child. But on the other hand, this was not a child, but a small monster, sent from whatever hell it crawled out to personally torture him for his failure of not being a Magus.

Luckily, the child didn't have that invisibility cloth of his, Byakuya having it torn off of the brat's body when he confronted him. Bless Sakura's little act of lifelessness; good girl, that one.

Byakuya wanted to hate her, but on the other side, he was stupidly _grateful_ that she was the one forced to go into that pit to enjoy those worms' attention on her body.

(He had seen what the pit in question has done to his brother Kariya. Not pretty in any way, shape or form. Kariya nowadays was more like a gargoyle, especially with the monster he had summoned and bound to himself. Byakuya would've been concerned for his younger brother, but all he was, was relieved (and jealous) that it was Kariya and not him.

Not him, not him, not him - it was never about him, he was just a spare born at the wrong time and place.

 _(He wasn't Lord Matou, that title went to his brother, he was nothing and he was statisfied with that -_

 _But who exactly was he kidding?)_

And then, that white-haired little girl crashed in their garden, practically glowing with power, it was like she was an answer to their prayers, but it seemed that this little gift from heaven was bound to that unpalatable little brat in front of him.

Gritting his teeth and gathering his will, one Matou Byakuya finally reached the end of his rope, spurred by agony both in his stomach and eye, his sight blurring -

 _Fuck it,_

 _Fuck it all._

 _Fuck the world, his father all the expectation and fuck his own cowardice the_ _ **most.**_

Unconsciously, he clenched his fist, the sole eye narrowing hatefully at the culprit of his misery in front of him.

Well. If Byakuya had to go down, he would damn well take this brat with him!

Roaring with fury, he clenched his right fist, instinctively pulling the energy within it and swung -

\- Causing bright, poisonously green whip to cackle out from his tightly-fisted hold as it snapped through the shield toward that red-eyed bratty hellion he had been in charge of catching.

The said brat narrowly avoided it, yelping with surprise when the whip in question left behind a deep gouge in the concrete.

Byakuya Matou grinned a blood-filled grin at those red eyes, for once wide with fear and apprehension when they looked at him.

Pain was nothing, a party aftertaste in the wake of this strange power coursing through his veins.

And he would, for once in his miserable life, _win._

 _(Fuck the rules.)_

* * *

This was a mess Xanxus was unprepared to deal with.

Knighthood was obviously not his bread and butter, and of course, all those Arthurian tales about knights having it easy when they fought for glory, honor, truth and beauty were freaking liars, all of them and when - not if, but when - Xanxus found his way to ones who spilled such drivel, he would gut them the slowest, most painful way imaginable -

That shitty adult clone somehow got a Lightning whip out of the fucking deal and Xanxus was not jealous or impressed or freaking terrified, because that gouge was deep and Xanxus didn't like his chances before, and he liked them even less -

Hurriedly rolling away from the madly cackling insane whacko on a power trip, Xanxus looked around frantically for something - anything to stop that long-range monstrosity sizzling uncomfortably close to his body with each passing strike.

Those pale blue eyes looked more like white, the apples within this tiny pinpricks of black and he looked like some kind of a demented modernized Dracula, only without fangs, what with half of his face ruined by Xanxus' claws, and the stomach wound having been cauterized by Xanxus' Flames when he used his claws. For such a crybaby, one would've expected the man would cower in front of Xanxus, but something within him had snapped and now, Xanxus was the unfortunate little shit to gather that particular reward.

Within the corner of his eye, Xanuxs spotted the ladder leading down the pit and maybe, just maybe it would work -

but this time, he was a bit too careless and a tip of a whip seared his face, numbing his skin and delivering a shock to his brain. It was just by virtue of having that insane training provided by Harry's three demons in disguise that Xanxus managed to scrabble away and around and was it just him, or did those worms become even louder?

"AHAHAHAHA! Dance, fucker _, dance!"_ the clone cackled at him, staggering forward, an insane smile on his face.

Xanxus' own Flames bristles like those of an offended cat, hissing against those seeking his own ones and this was a fucking _disgrace_ , where was Vindice when one _needed_ them -

"You are insane!" He howled back as he rolled away once more ans shit, when he would be out of this, he would find something long-range, and kiss Kiritsugu's smelly feet if that meant the man would teach him more about firing guns -

( _because fighting long-ranged fighter with close-ranged weapons was just a_ genius _idea,_ _ **not - )**_

The only answer was a cackle and the man hobbling closer, apparently just as dissatisfied with his whip not really licking Xanxus' skin and meat off his bones.

Xanxus inched closer to the pit, his eyes wide and muscles tense, one mistake and he would be worm food, literally.

Another snap of the whip, but this time, Xanxus grabbed it, and yelled as his body was shocked with electricity, but his Wrath Flames were already at work, eating through the ephemeral substance like a hungry lion or tiger and there was little time and Xanxus yanked the man closer almost losing his own footing in haste when he sidestepped, letting the man plummet into the pit but the Lightning Flames were stubborn, so Xanxus channeled more, more and _more,_ in an attempt to sever the involuntary bond between them, the man's crazy laughter changing into a shrieks and howls of pain as the worms piled themselves upon him, eager to get to that tempting source of energy hanging by a thread that was becoming thinner and thinner by the moment, until it snapped, coiling and falling back to its creator who was now fighting the swarms feasting on him.

Xanxus was exhausted; his nerves frazzled and feeling like he didn't want to get out of bed, or heavens forbid, move at all.

But - a flash of memory of those blank aquamarine eyes made him scramble to look into the pit in search of the little girl residing here.

"Come."

Xanxus refused to admit he yelped at the sound so close behind his back. Turning around, he staggered, only to be balanced by small hands of one he had attempted to rescue, but was apparently now prevented by from falling into the Pit of Doom.

Dull aquamarine eyes looked at him when the girl, clad in red rags - Xanxus refused to contemplate what those stains meant - tugged him along, her scent curiously of sunflowers under all that bug-laden trash.

"Where to?" Xanxus was definitely suspicious one. What was to say that wasn't one more trap again?

"Out." Sakura - this girl was Sakura, right? Replied to him.

"I'm not going."

Xanxus' frank answer finally got a reaction out of the girl, even if only her eyes widened out a little bit more than usual.

"Why?"

Red stared into aquamarine, a single word an answer, leaving his lips like drop of water, a holy prayer contained with two syllables.

"Iri."

* * *

"And there is a mysterious case of gas leak in XX district, the flames are notoriously hard to douse down, so all the nearby residents are strongly urged to leave the premises of their residences, just in case. Reinforcements had been called from Tokyo - "

The TV was abruptly cut off prompting Rider's startled shout.

"Hey, boy, why did you do this?! Maybe it was a Servant - "

Rider looked to his Master, who was pale to the point to being green around his proverbial gills. Red eyebrows on rugged but kind face raised in askance at his Master's unusual state.

"No need. I know exactly who is that dumb to play pyromaniac this late at night." Waver replied to his Servant grimly, raising the can of cold coffee to his lips, but changing his mind before he took a sip. "Do not go boom into that gentle night, really?"

"Really?" Rider asked, intrigued.

"It's either one of _those three_ \- " Rider felt his curiosity rise even more at Waver's enunciation of the last two words. They had to be something else if they made usually unflappable Waver crumble into a pile of misery. "Or _those two_." Waver dreaded either of the possibility. But he had to admit, he dreaded the latter one more.

"You still haven't told me who do you mean when you talk about them." Kind, but shrewd burnished red eyes bore into miserable green ones.

"It's either Harry's friends - Kiritsugu, Kirei and Kuzuki - or Xanxus with Iri. " Waver grimaced. "Which is impossible, because they've vanished off the Earth ten years ago and it would be stupid coincidence for them to show up in this place and time of all things." Tiredly, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, before taking a sip of ice coffee from his can, only to whimper when the liquid hit his stomach and managing to enrage one of his stress ulcers, made by and dedicated to those troublesome hellions he called family.

"They were always some kind of an impossibility, I'm told." Rider told him gently, before his face brightened up. "So that means we can go look which one of them is here! Besides, they may be interested in joining my army and conquering the world!"

Waver's eyes for impossibly big when he comprehended what his unruly Servant was aiming to do, but he was too slow to stop him.

Without further ado, he grabbed Waver and tossed him onto his wide shoulder before he jumped out of the room straight onto the motorcycle, parked below the window.

(One story houses were surprisingly convenient for quick exits that way.)

" _RIDER!_ " Waver's wail of helpless fury was disregarded as the Heroic Spirit fired up the motor, hastily speeding into the night, not caring about traffic regulations or having helmet on his heat one whit.

Waver's vision swam, as he closed his eyes along with pressing hands on his ears as he resigned himself to be carried off into danger once again.

Motion Sickness, meet Waver. Waver, meet Motion Sickness, your near and dear (but hardly missed) old friend.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Usually, one Kotomine Kirei had his wits just about under iron control, but sensing this latest kerfuffle, he couldn't help but face palm, attracting attention not only of his foster father and mentor, but also a certain Golden King._

" _Kirei?" Father Kotomine asked him, concern in his voice. "Are you alright?"_

" _I am not." Kirei's voice was muffled behind his hand as he dragged it down his face in weariness. He had a_ very _good suspicion who was culprit for merry hell being played at Zouken's hidey-hole. "It's just…" he hesitated to say, but in the light of approaching mess, he felt he at least owed his two handlers some forewarning -_ Nah _. Not right. His inner troll just got a chance to revel in all the mess and wanted in on the fun._

" _Just what?" Tokiomi asked, aquamarine eyes curious and like those of a baby with the amount of innocence they emitted. Kirei almost pitied him._ Almost.

" _There's a new player in the town, and he is a pyromaniac." Kirei announced, causing both Father Kotomine and Tokiomi almost fall over in comical disbelief._

" _That's nothing new, mongrel." came a cold, aristocratic voice from behind him, and Tokiomi immediately cowered, while Kotomine bowed to the ancient entity clad in golden armor._

 _Kirei just quirked an eyebrow at the Heroic Spirit who sipped on wine from a priceless goblet. "Forgive my impudence, my King, but it's about to get messy. I know him and the amount of chaos he could cause…" he paused. "Well, let's say things are bound to get entertaining for some and horrifying for others."_

 _Yes, Xanxus had that kind of effect on happenings._

" _And who is he?" Father Kotomine inquired._

 _Kirei smiled. It was a thin smile, barely there, but a smile nonetheless. "Why, I thought you'd never ask." His smile became visible._

" _He is my son."_

 _Gilgamesh choked on his wine._


	61. Chapter 61

_**Disclaimer:** _ I don't own the characters. I do own the story.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ Merry Christmas, people. Hopefully I will make your day or night a little bit brighter with this chapter.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, some violence, _Don't Do Described Things At Home,_ Kirei's questionable quests ten years ago, Waver making waves. Multiple POV's.

* * *

 _Pressure pushing down on me_

 _Pressing down on you, no man ask for_

 _Under pressure that burns a building down_

 _Splits a family in two_

 _Puts people on streets_

( _'Under Pressure'_ by David Bowie and Queen)

* * *

Usually, one Kotomine Kirei had his wits just about under iron control, but sensing this latest kerfuffle, he couldn't help but face palm, attracting attention not only of his foster father and mentor, but also a certain Golden King.

"Kirei?" Father Kotomine asked him, concern in his voice. "Are you alright?"

"I am not." Kirei's voice was muffled behind his hand as he dragged it down his face in weariness. He had a very good suspicion who was culprit for merry hell being played at Zouken's hidey-hole. "It's just…" he hesitated to say, but in the light of approaching mess, he felt he at least owed his two handlers some forewarning - Nah. Not right. His inner troll just got a chance to revel in all the mess and wanted in on the fun.

"Just what?" Tokiomi asked, aquamarine eyes curious and like those of a baby with the amount of innocence they emitted. Kirei almost pitied him. Almost.

"There's a new player in the town, and he is a pyromaniac." Kirei announced, causing both Father Kotomine and Tokiomi almost fall over in comical disbelief.

"That's nothing new, mongrel." came a cold, aristocratic voice from behind him, and Tokiomi immediately cowered, while Kotomine bowed to the ancient entity clad in golden armor.

Kirei just quirked an eyebrow at the Heroic Spirit who sipped on wine from a priceless goblet. "Forgive my impudence, my King, but it's about to get messy. I know him and the amount of chaos he could cause…" he paused. "Well, let's say things are bound to get entertaining for some and horrifying for others."

Yes, Xanxus had that kind of effect on happenings.

"And who is he?" Father Kotomine inquired.

Kirei smiled. It was a thin smile, barely there, but a smile nonetheless. "Why, I thought you'd never ask." His smile became visible.

"He is my son."

Gilgamesh choked on his wine.

"Y-your- _cough_ - _ **son?"**_ Gilgamesh would deny it forever, but his voice at that time reached an embarrassingly high pitch, called a squeak. To cover it up, he coughed a little bit more. His only consolation was that both older mongrels also looked like they were slapped with a big, fat and wet fish.

"Of course." Kirei nodded to him, honestly earnest expression on his usually expressionless face and this was even harder to stomach that his usual brick-in-the-wall countenance.

Gilgamesh had an unpleasant flash of thought that this particular mongrel was playing with them. But that wasn't possible. It just _wasn't_ , because that would mean Gilgamesh somehow erred in his judgment of this particular priest's temperament and the fact was, Gilgamesh _. Didn't. Do. Mistakes_. Well, aside that one with the snake and immortality shtick, but that was water under the bridge dammit, and Gilgamesh had learned his lesson, okay?

And now, Kirei had thrown the proverbial bomb in the shape of him having a son and –

Gilgamesh's mind flashed back to the time when he taunted the little priest about him having to let his pants loose if he wanted to seduce his little paramour and –

"Kirei. Are you trying to tell me that you _impregnated_ someone? Is that why didn't you return back to Fuyuki?" Father Kotomine recovered first, and by thunderous expression on his face, Kirei was in for a very long and painful chewing out.

Dull brown eyes looked into livid gray ones of the older priest. "In a manner of speaking."

 _"In a manner of – !"_ Father Kotomine was red in the face, his fists trembling at his sides. "I didn't raise you to forget your wows of chastity the first goddamn chance you get!" He roared at his son, raising his hand to slap him.

Kirei didn't move. "There are more things under heaven than we can perceive, Father." He replied back, his head tilting to the side. "Who is to say that wasn't the will of heaven?"

"And why would you say that, Kirei?" Tokiomi gathered his wits at last, but the Tohsaka clan head at least had enough of a clear head to think things through. Aquamarine eyes looked at the young man in front of him piercingly. "If I recall it right, you've came into Fuyuki alone. Since when do you say you have that son of yours?" Firmly, Tokiomi grabbed the wrist of the elder priest who was still seething with anger and pulled his hand down.

"Since ten years ago." Kirei replied. Tokiomi gave him a nod, the older Magus still visibly frazzled, but making a good effort to keep his head level above the bullshit Kirei had been spewing out and about. "And _why_ , pray tell, are we hearing about him only _now?"_ His voice was calm, but Kirei sensed the man activate his circuits, ready willing and able to gift him with some very unpleasant… _souvenirs_ should Kirei be too outlandish in his little… omitted report.

"I didn't think he would come along." Kirei admitted shamelessly, causing his listeners' eyes bug out slightly. "Didn't _think?!"_ Tokiomi asked him incredulously. "If you had a son – "

"Because this didn't have anything to do with my duties toward Church, therefore I excluded it out of my report." Kirei interrupted him. "Besides, circumstances were such that when I was caught in summoning I didn't know whether or not there was anyone else out of my group that had managed to survive the trip alongside me."

" _Summoning."_ Father Kotomine's voice was flat. "And you say your group was also _included_ in it."

"Probably." Kirei gave him a sharp nod.

"And the mother of your… child?" It cost Father Kotomine almost all of his willpower to say those six words, even if only in inquiry.

Kirei inclined his head. "Whoever said there was a mother involved?" The young priest was enjoying this little verbal spar very much - and even more so the reactions of his prey to his little verbal jabs. Kirei could almost see the steam coming out of Father Kotomine's ears at his insolent reply.

"Either there _is_ a mother or there _isn't."_ Father Kotomine bit out as he crossed his hands on his massive chest while glaring at his errant son that suddenly had more than a few skeletons in his proverbial closet.

"There _is_ and there _isn't._ It's all a matter of interpretation, really." Kirei let loose a small smirk.

Father Kotomine let out a strangled sound that was part growl and part gnashing his teeth as he threaded one hand through his shoulder-length grayed-out hair in frustration. "Kirei…" He paused, inhaling as to cool his temper down. "Please. This isn't time to play games."

"I am also curious of your answer, mongrel." Gilgamesh chimed in, his red eyes glittering like twin rubies with the entertainment Kirei was providing him. It was amusing just how he had those two worms twitching on proverbial tenterhooks with every word he spoke out. Maybe he would forgive the mongrel this one time for causing him to spit out his drink. _Maybe._ If he would be amused enough.

There was a tense pause between all four of the men in the room.

"I adopted him." Kirei finally relented. Father Kotomine let out a relieved breath.

"Why didn't you just say so, you little brat!" He boomed out, grinning with delight. "It is a good deed you've done, you should have told us sooner! Maybe we could organize a few play dates with Tokiomi's little Rin, isn't that right, Tokiomi?"

"Um… Yes?" Tokiomi managed to squeak out, completely baffled with this turn of events.

"I adopted him via Healing." Kirei interrupted him serenely. "And for the record, his mother is a man."

This time, Father Kotomine really decked him one.

* * *

Kiritsugu Emiya was a pragmatic man. Everyone who had cooperated with this - and you could've counted those people on the fingers of one hand - could've told you that. The only time his pragmatism and calm left him was when he had to deal with the one of the trouble quarter - either Kirei, Harry, Archer or, heavens forbid, Xanxus.

Sadly, heavens were taking a break right now, leaving him alone to deal with the shitstorm that was Xanxus' latest and most violent use of the Wrath Flames.

He may have not have Kirei's Flame senses - the shitty priest was almost preternaturally gifted in that arena - but his own experience with the stubborn brat in question amounted just as much. And having a Saber was in some way a godsend, because she could act as a spy/scout by his orders.

So when Saber reported about strange Flames at Matou residence, Kiritsugu's gut told him that he knew the culprit – or culprits, in that case - and knew them very, very well.

(But right now, he had other things to do than reminiscing about good old times back in Germany.)

* * *

Somehow, they escaped it. Xanxus panted as he carried Iri on his back, the little girl half-unconscious while he gripped the other _bambina_ by her hand, dragging her along like a piece of luggage. Both of the girls were scarily quiet, aside from Iri's broken gasps and hitches in her breath as she tried to deal with the fact that she was - for a moment - safe.

He had set that disgusting room and its old crone on fire - he didn't know _how,_ but he _did_ , and Xanxus didn't _care_ \- he _refused_ to care at all, considering that Iri's eyes, when she saw him, were filled with such a terrible blankness that scared him to his very soul, and only when he somehow prodded her with his Flames via their bond, the white-haired homunculus regained her mind, if only a little.

Xanxus was unused to that Iri. No. This was not Iri, his friend and little sister, but _Irisviel_ , a weapon exploited by that bracelet, ready, willing and able to kill him at a moments' notice if Xanxus hadn't - _somehow_ \- made her come back to her senses.

Swallowing dryly, he coughed as that oily smoke rolled through his lung, stinging all the way down, his body screaming for air, more air, more, _more_ , but was forced to process only that smoky monstrosity in return.

* * *

" _You,_ brat, will be the death of me."

Blearily, Xanxus opened his eyes, cringing at the light that snapped through his irises like hungry wolf.

"Ke-rry?" He coughed out as he tried to rise, only for the man's hands to firmly press him back down onto the … was that a bed?

"It's _Kiritsugu,_ brat, get that into your thick skull already." The well-known and much-welcomed voice snapped back at him.

Xanxus' eyes adjusted enough to see a blurry silhouette of a messy hair, pale face and eyes, black like void glaring down at him.

Kiritsugu was clad in dark gray business suit with black tie and charcoal gray coat. The entire garb was in a sharp contrast with his almost too young face, but at the same time, it made him look professional his usual attire didn't.

The room they were in was obviously a hotel one – beige color of the wall with some decorations of peonies here and there, with a bed Xanxus was currently lying on and the chair Kiritsugu currently occupied along with the small circular table on Xanxus' right that carried a small lamp, a stack of papers and a case.

Xanxus was safe and that was all that mattered for now.

Tired, Xanxus closed his eyes, snuggling into the nearest warm object at hand, with familiar scent of water lilies caressing his nose and disregarding the one of the crushed cicadas permeating his other side.

* * *

"How are they?" A hushed feminine voice behind Kiritsugu asked the assassin.

"Just _peachy."_ Kiritsugu grumbled back. "Aside them inhaling that smoke, there seems nothing wrong with them." Dark eyes zeroed on Xanxus' newest acquisition critically before he looked at the visitor for a moment and then, he looked back at the puppy pile carelessly snoozing on the bed. "If I hadn't known better, I would've thought the brat is trying to build his very own harem."

"But you _do_ know better." Saber replied back as she stepped into the room, her steps almost noiseless if not for the slight creaking under her feet. Kiritsugu eyes her, unimpressed as he fished out a cigarette and lit it up. Inhaling the first smoke he then slowly exhaled it, his eyes returning back to Xanxus' newest acquisition.

Matou Sakura. Or better, Tohsaka Sakura. Good lord, that brat was really playing a high-stake game. Kiritsugu didn't want to know, but for the sake of saving their collective asses, he had to know.

It was only by grace of sheer dumb luck that he intercepted the trio just in time to save them from the ceiling collapsing in on them.

His muscles screamed from using _Triple Accel_ and he would take his own metaphoric pound of flesh out of the brat's hide later on, but at least he had confirmed some things.

Firstly, the ritual had successfully thrown him, Xanxus and Iri into the future. If extrapolated, that would mean Harry with Kuzuki and that shitty priest was also hiding somewhere in the city.

Secondly, both of the brats were of the same age they used to be when they were in Italy - well, Xanxus _was,_ but for Iri, Kiritsugu wouldn't know. Homunculi were notoriously hard to guess how old they were, but Iri looked like she had when Kiritsugu first met here, so maybe she didn't age, either? And if they truly didn't age, what caused that?

Thirdly, if they were older, then... it would be harder to find them. _Shit._ Tiredly, Kiritsugu rubbed his face as he cursed his luck. If he hadn't checked with Saber, he would've thought that his luck was also an E-rank… and maybe Archer had cursed him somehow, the bastard.

(Kiritsugu categorically _refused_ to believe that white-haired, tanned dandy was his son.)

And there was still the fact that Fourth Grail War was waiting for no one, and there was a high chance of Harry participating in it somehow - even if Harry's own Seals were wiped out at that disaster back then, Kiritsugu wasn't naïve enough not to think Harry wouldn't have gotten another Servant.

If Saber's observations were right, currently there were Archer and Lancer already Summoned with Caster being on the loose judging by the slew of murders going through the city but with an unknown culprit to boot – which could just easily be an Assassin – with only Rider and Berserker being unaccounted for.

It was making Kiritsugu feel antsy because he didn't have any good data aside from ones provided by Saber - and Kiritsugu could only pray he would find Harry before anything major would happen.

 _Preferably before that bastard priest gets his dirty hands on Harry._ Kiritsugu's jaw clenched at that thought as his free hand curled into a tight fist. He still ached to smack the priest a good one. Kirei was too much nosey for Kiritsugu's tastes when he sniffled around Harry.

But Kiritsugu was helpless. Harry was completely blind to Kirei's dark side when it concerned him, accepting the priest without even suspecting the man had any odd motives in the background. Not that Kiritsugu was not happy for this - in fact, it relieved him because that meant harry also accepted him, but the ramifications were a little bit more worrying than just that.

Kiritsugu liked Harry. As in, _like-like._ Kirei, Kiritsugu knew, still hadn't come to the point he would acknowledge his feelings and such, and Kiritsugu selfishly prayed he never would. Because then there would be blood and collateral damage that would undoubtedly reach epic proportions. If they had been bad when they were little brats…. Kiritsugu shuddered to think what he and Kirei could've done to the surroundings in their fight now when they were fully capable of utilizing their strengths and techniques.

But right now, he was in no position to advance, nor was he in position to retreat. His sources had been stretched as it were - it was pure dumb luck that there existed a safe haven pre-made by Einzberns to be the base of operation for the Grail War.

Matous were hopefully out of running. Which left Tokiomi Tohsaka and five others. Kiritsugu wanted to grimace, but restrained himself. After all, he had won through the worse odds... but none had mattered to him as much as this one did. Swallowing harshly, he steeled himself in preparation to what would come next.

The game had to go on, after all.

Until the bitter end.

* * *

They were too late.

They had arrived when the building was already wallowing in merry flames fireman units were desperately trying to douse, with not much avail. The flames greedily devoured everything they could get their hungry mouths on.

Waver made a strangled sound when Rider finally let him off of his massive shoulder. The slender teen scrambled behind the bush where he finally emptied his roiling stomach.

"Aah, it seems we came too late." The tall bearded redhead lamented as he watched the flames mournfully.

"Ya _think!?"_ Was a gargled response from behind the bush, and if looks could kill, Rider would've been killed at least three times over.

"Though… they reported that there were no victims so maybe we could search for them later on." Rider cheerfully concluded, causing Waver to become even greener in the face than he already was.

"You are an asshole." He spat back at Rider, whose only reply was a booming laugh at Waver's misery.

Waver lamented his hotheadedness. If he had known just how much of a handful Rider actually was, he wouldn't have stolen his artifact… who was he kidding, Waver would've done the same in a heartbeat.

"Waver?" Someone called him, and Waver's back stiffened with disbelief before he hurriedly straightened and turned around, his eyes wide and desperately searching for the owner of the voice.

From the shadows, there stepped out another one - no, not shadow, but a tall man clad in dark blue jogging attire with white piping at the sides. The man's harsh-lined face was stern only softened a little with a pair of rimless glasses being perched on his nose.

"Ku-Kuzuki?" Waver wouldn't be ashamed to admit that his voice shook a little when he took in the form in front of him.

"Waver." That single word of acknowledgement catapulted the young teen into the arms of the unsuspecting man - only to be grabbed by the scruff of his pullover and held in the air like some kind of an unruly puppy.

"R-Rider? What the heck are you doing!?" Waver squawked. "Put me down, dammit!"

"This man is a stranger and he may even be an enemy." Rider rumbled back at him, red eyes glaring down at the stranger who was so dear to his Master.

"Y-You don't understand! He is my friend!" Waver tried to wiggle out, but that only causes him to swing in the man's hold more as he made grabby motions toward Kuzuki. Waver glared at Rider.

"Rider, put me down this instant or else…" he threatened his Servant.

"Or else what?" Rider didn't care.

"No more playing games for you!" This was a threat that would surely work, considering Rider was obsessed with playing games, especially strategic ones. (Though there was one mind-breaking foray into _otome_ game genre Waver somehow managed to wipe out from his memory. Paraphernalia, though, was harder to get rid of, but Waver had somehow caused it to spontaneously combust itself. Problem solved.)

"No can do." Came a swift reply. "And we are going home." Rider turned around, ready, willing and able to march toward the Motorbike Of Death.

Waver gawped at the hulking man. Rider, sacrificing his precious games? _Unheard_ of!

But he also had had it with the man's overbearing way. He was no fucking damsel in distress, dammit! Inhaling, he then let loose his frustration with the idiot Servant that was currently barring him from any news about his family.

"RIDER! PUT ME _DOWN_ , YOU ASSHOLE! THIS IS MY FUCKING _FAMILY_ WE ARE TALKING ABOUTSO DON'T YOU _DARE_ TO TELL ME YOU ARE UNABLE TO DO SOMETHING SO SIMPLE AS THIS, YOU NUMBSKULL!"

Waver roared out, glaring at Rider for all he was worth, not budging an inch when he stared into those surprised wide, wine-red eyes.

Even Kuzuki, as expressionless as he was, showed faint traces of surprise on his face, mainly in the slight widening of his eyes.

Nobody moved. Then, slowly, carefully, as if Waver was 50 kilos of TNT ready, willing and able to go _kaboom,_ Rider carefully put him on his feet and backed away from the seething Waver, who beamed, with flowers in the background as he jumped into Kuzuki's hold, the man barely having time to catch him.

"It's you!" Waver's smile could lit a city, so bright it was, and his eyes were wide with excitement, if a little big wet with withhold tears as he hugged the taller man into a vice-like grip that caused Kuzuki to wheeze.

"It's me." The man grunted out. "But what are _you_ doing here?"

Neither of them giving any attention to the red-haired Servant currently sulking in the background, as Waver still had his legs wrapped around Kuzuki's waist and Kuzuki effortlessly supporting the waif-like teen against his body.

Waver grimaced. "The fire…I think it had been caused by _you know who -_ " he stressed last three words, "So I and my Servant came to investigate if he is there."

"Um-hm." Kuzuki nodded as he carried him to the nearby bench where he sat down and attempted to remove Waver from his body, only for the teen to cling to him like an octopus. Neither of the two giving any attention to some passersby who eyed them strangely for being in such an intimate position.

"Are the others with you?" Waver asked his face full of hope. Waver's face fell when Kuzuki shook his head. "We were separated. " Kuzuki told him grimly. "That last day in Italy, we intended to visit some of the hills, but we've been caught in some kind of ritual that separated us from each other."

Waver deflated at first, but then perked up. "Then I will help you to find them!" He proclaimed, his green eyes flashing with determination. Kuzuki hesitated at first, but caved under Waver's puppy eyes, nodding a little. Waver beamed at him again.

"And what are you doing here? Last I heard you had plans to get into that exclusive school in England." He inquired back, eyebrows arching a little.

Waver grimaced. "Bunch of sanctimonious pricks, if you ask me," he grumbled out, annoyed, but looking up and seeing Kuzuki's deadpan expression, he flushed with embarrassment. "I-I mean, it's good and all but they are not you and – "

Waver's ramblings were stopped by Kuzuki's hand ruffling his hair.

"I see Xanxus' influence is still strong within you." The man commented dryly, and Waver spluttered, his eyes wide and cheeks flush with mortification as he tried to deny the facts.

Red eyes which watching the pair in the background darkened the longer the two chatted.

He never knew that Waver could be anything but a shirking violet he portrayed himself as, both in dreams and in real life. But this, _this_ –

This man had such an influence on the small teen it was simply _astounding_. Even as few-worded as he was, this… Kuzuki - could cause the slender teen to smile the prettiest smile and make a devastating pout, worthy of any of those of Helen of Troy's…. and the fact that they were given to that brick-face of a man just wasn't fair.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

" _Why do you have a…" Harry waved at Kirei's face helplessly. "Racoon eye?" And true to the fact, Kirei's face sported a very impressive shiner that was all the more impressive because it rested on a priest's face._

 _(Priests were not a violent sort, not the ones to dole out violence or ones to accept it… most of the times.)_

" _I had some sort of a disagreement with your father-in-law about our son." Short and concise as ever, Kirei abbreviates the Shiner Episode._

 _Harry's eyebrows rose. "About Xanxus? Why?" He asked, honestly baffled about what could've gone wrong._

 _Kirei nodded. "He disagreed with the fact of you being a mother."_

 _Harry's eyebrow twitched. "I am_ not _his mother." Calm. Calm, and deep breaths in and out. "Besides, you already claimed this title, so your argument was invalid anyway."_

" _You gave him your blood." Kirei, fuck him very much, smiled_. Smiled. _Harry's blood chilled at the sight of that smile. Not that it was unnatural or anything - in fact, Kirei's face was even more handsome, but the implications of that smile weren't pretty. It meant that someone was going down, and Harry had a strong suspicion that this time, that would be him who would be victim of Kirei's strange brand of logic. "Isn't it usually a mother who nurtures her children via their blood?" Harry's mental gears screeched at Kirei's question._

" _Y-Yes, but – "Harry stammered, his eyes wide._

" _Then by that logic, transfusion is the same, because it's giving a blood to someone and with ritual, it essentially made it Xanxus' blood, so you are, like it or not, his mother."_

" _I don't have the necessary equipment for this!" Harry snapped back, peeved, before he blushed with mortification at what he had just said. Still, he stubbornly glared at the priest, as if that would help him to overcome the intense embarrassment of his latest blunder in his verbal spars with Kirei._

" _Blood. DNA change. "Three words mortally slayed Harry's moral high ground, causing him to cover his red-hot face and emit a helpless whimper._

"Bloody _magic."_

" _And," Kirei relentlessly continued, "Father Kotomine wished me to invite you to get to know his...Daughter-in-law." Stunned, Harry peeked from his fingers hiding his face._

 _This was almost too audacious to be believed. Harry was speechless. "Didn't you tell him that I was a_ man _?" He finally croaked out, his eyes wide._

" _Of course." Kirei nodded, shameless as one could be._

" _And he_ still _issued an invite?" Harry asked in complete disbelief at that turn of events._

" _Yes, why wouldn't he?" Kirei countered back, faux-confused. "You_ are _a mother of his grandson, so it's only proper."_

 _Numbly, Harry hid his face behind his palms once again._

" _I repeat - bloody_ magic _."_

 _(He didn't see Kirei's lips curling into a smirk full of anticipation at furthering the already existing chaos.)_


	62. Chapter 62

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters; I own the story and turns, plots and twists going through it.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Dead tired. Gone to shopping with my mum for her new smartphone... Suffice to say the whole endeavor took way longer than anticipated. A question for you all - do any of you listen to the songs that had been used in the excerpts of overall story? And if you do, how did you like them?

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, Waver is being scary and Harry Interrogation in progress. Not beta-read.

 _From the day we arrive on the planet  
And blinking, step into the sun  
There's more to see than can ever be seen  
More to do than can ever be done_

( _'Circle of Life'_ by Elton John in _Lion King_ )

* * *

There was a stare down between three factions.

Harry was not feeling comfortable with that silent war, but considering he had unintentionally instigated it - it completely eluded him how exactly did he manage to do that - he still had to suffer through it.

The following situation was like this:

Berserker was cuddling Harry in this shovel pit that was their temporary base of operation, not budging an inch, which was a complete opposite from his former hesitation about initiating any kind of connection with the green-eyed wizard. He behaved like big cuddly cat, albeit one clad in spiked out armor, but that didn't deter him from wrapping himself around Harry in the most possessive way he knew how. Honestly, there was also a little purr coming out from behind his helmet!

On Harry's right, there sat Archer, with a cup of tea in his hands - Harry didn't know just where Archer procured tea from, because he distinctly remembered that the hovel in question didn't have much about for tea-making - glaring at either Kariya or Berserker, ready, willing and able to skewer the two at the smallest provocation. He was so out of place in the said hovel it wasn't even funny - it was like some kind of a dandied-up Robin Hood had been mysteriously transported to the modern times, and instead of his forest, he had to make do with the cardboard and plastics hovel they were just in. The dichotomy was even exaggerated by Archer's unflappably Japanese manners in drinking tea which was in stark contrast with his westernized clothes. In fact, if Harry hadn't known better, he would've mistaken him for some kind of a cosplayer.

On Harry's left, close to Berserker, but not that close, sat Kariya with his cup of coffee and completely mulish expression on his face. Harry had a hunch that if he hadn't been here, there would be hell to pay. Kariya was clad in his usual crumpled jogging ensemble, and he looked even more ghastly than usual, the veins/scars on the side of his face protruding even more as he glared at both of Archer and Berserker as if they were culprits for sparking World War Three.

Sighing, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, once more asking himself why exactly he was the one to deal with this kind of bullshit.

* * *

It had happened like that:

When Harry returned back, there was a black and blue flash, before he was literally kidnapped by Berserker, who didn't want to relinquish him, no matter Harry's reasoning, pleas or threats, which made Archer automatically call up his twin falchions, only for Berserker to disarm him with what seemed to be a negligible ease - and a _bin cover_ , to boot. Harry didn't know how that was even _possible,_ but it happened.

And there was also Kariya in all of his ghoulish glory, ready willing and able to waste one perfectly good Command Seal to annihilate Archer on the spot. (Not that Berserker would _mind_ , mind you.) Only Harry's quick intervention saved his Servant from almost ensured demise.

And of-fucking-course, Harry then had to participate in that little pow-wow he was now in the middle of.

"Explain." Kariya was apparently still furious, what with how short his sentence was. The white-haired Matou barely himself back from not ripping into someone, and at this stage, it didn't matter who would be the victim of his rage. Berseker seconded his demand with a low growl as he snuggled into Harry even more, much to Harry's chagrin - come one, armor was not a cushion, by and far - and Archer and Kariya's disgruntlement.

Harry shot a warning glare to Archer, who already opened his mouth to give his own piece of unwanted wisdom, casing Archer to click his mouth shut. "Archer is my Servant."

That just amped up Kariya's temper more. "I distinctly remember that I didn't give you any catalyst or the chant or anything with what you could Summon… that." His last word was thrown in Archer's way like rotten tomato, causing the Servant in question to bristle back.

"He already Summoned me back in Italy. Why wouldn't he Summon me now, when there's a _legitimate_ threat against him?" Archer interjected, smirking a nasty little smirk at Kariya who was five seconds away from throttling him.

"Archer, _enough!"_ Harry snapped at Archer, who then made the most innocent face, as if denying he had just poked a dragon. Harry then looked at seething Kariya.

"Is that _true?"_ Kariya managed to get out, only to deflate when Harry nodded. "You weren't there for that, so you don't know, but I was kidnapped by some mafia famiglias in order for them to press me to be their leader. Long story short, the idiots tried to kill me when my friends came for me, and somehow, I managed to Summon Archer who killed them in turn."

Both Kariya and Berserker froze when they heard the summary of the happenings. Harry let out a pained squeak when Berserker hugged him a little too hard, the Mad Servant quickly loosening his iron grip on his prey - but not so much that Harry could slink away.

" _Somehow?"_ Kariya inquired, stilling himself from not outright accusing his friend of using him, even if the accusation was on the tip of his tongue.

"Yes." Harry retorted, glaring back. "I was shot at the time, and I had that little stone - He shuffled around to reach for the stone in his pocket in order to show it to the disbelieving parties. After some nudges, he managed to get it and with soft exclamation of triumph - and a side glare at unrepentant Berserker for not budging up an inch and thus having made his retrieval more difficult than it ought to have been, he then opened his fist, on which there was a triangle-shaped, blood red stone. Archer made a face, when he saw it, all too familiar for his tastes.

"Yeah. _That."_ Kariya's eyes looked at the stone in Harry's hand and similar stone hanging off of the elegant chain around Archer's neck.

"That still doesn't explain why I didn't see him alongside you." Ah, an accusation.

Archer snorted. "Yeah, _no._ And at that time, you didn't need to know I was there." He wrinkled his nose. "Besides, you went back to Japan shortly after the wedding."

Kariya grimaced in acquiesce. That was the truth. Still, there was next question to clear out of the many. He gazed back at Harry, his eyes serious.

"Then how did you Summon him back?"

Harry gave a helpless shrug. "Well, he had been de-summoned when I had that attack – " He wheezed again, as Berserker once again used him like a human-sized squishy, but at Harry's glare, the dark mass whimpered and relented " - and then, you know the rest, more or less. I went outside to the part to Summon him, and Lancer was kind enough to instruct me in making a Summoning circle and giving me incantation."

"Which kind of bugs me. Why didn't you Summon me like before?" Archer interjected.

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Tried, but failed." He spit out, his cheeks glowing red with how humiliated he was. "Lancer saw me and – "

"And you just blindly trusted an _enemy_ servant? What are you, an _idiot?_ He could've just as easily sabotaged you - !" Kariya was not amused with Harry's happy-go-lucky way of doing things.

"I didn't! I knew his name!" Harry defended. "He was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, and he is currently serving that El Melloi cactus!"

"Still - !" Kariya snapped back, not allowing himself to feel any kind of amusement at Harry's dub of a fellow Master, no matter how apt the said dub may have been.

"Dia is a _knight_ , for the fuck's sake. He is honorable and he wouldn't have done something like that! It goes against his code of honor!" Harry snapped back, growling.

"And knights have to _obey_ their Masters, you _numbskull!_ What if he had been _ordered_ to instruct you wrongly, what then? _Think_ a little, would you!" Kariya wanted to shake the green-eyed idiot to make some common sense working within Harry's head. "You were goddamned lucky that he didn't have any intention to harm you I don't even…" Speechless, Kariya shook his head.

"And why the fuck is you calling him _Dia_ of all things?"

Harry growled. "It's common sense if you know someone, that you them by their name and not a title. Besides, calling him Lancer would, I don't know, be disrespectful, when I know his name!"

Taken aback, Kariya inhaled _"Common sense - !"_ He spluttered, shock mixing with dismay. Out of all things to waste one's common sense on, it had to be that one!?

Archer watched the byplay happening in front of him, amused. It was interesting to see Harry reamed for his strange brand of luck, though he completely agreed with Kariya's assessment. If Harry was a teensy tiny bit less lucky, the whole story could've turned out very differently.

"Oi, oi, Stop with cussing, okay. "He interrupted them, smirking. Harry was glaring at Kariya, looking for all he was worth like a pissed-off, drowned kitten and Archer wanted to coo and cuddle him and make him some of his homemade food –

"Thing we ought to concentrate on first is to get out of that hovel to somewhere better." Hah, ever the voice of reason, not that one certain _tsundere_ appreciated it.

Kariya wanted to oppose, but in that moment, the cellphone rang, prompting him to fish it out of the jacket pocket and answer.

The longer the call lasted, the more Kariya's body tightened and crumpled into it, if that was even possible, his already pale face now completely white with shock.

When he shakily disconnected the call, his eyes wide and unseeing. Both Harry and Archer frowned at the man's behavior. Archer's face became grave and his eyes flinty with a hint of guilt and remorse held within them, much to Harry's confusion. Harry looked back to Kariya, and the expression on Kariya's face made his stomach drop with unease.

"Kariya?" He inquired, concerned. He had never seen Kariya with such an expression on his face.

Swallowing, Kariya opened his mouth, only to close it down. He tried once again, and this time, he forced the words out of his mouth, unbelievable as they were.

"Someone had burned down Matou mansion." He choked out, his throat tight with worry. "The reports say that there were no survivors."

* * *

"Useless." That was sharp, short and cruel declaration of Diarmuid's efforts.

Disgusted with the kneeling Servant, Kayneth turned around to stare through the window, his mind going through the gathered facts. He didn't see Diarmuid's small flinch of hurt at his harsh criticism, those golden eyes narrowing a little, but the Servant was still kneeling subserviently, head bowed and his right loosely clenched fist resting on the green-clad chest.

To find out that this impolite little brat had an Archer - if Lancer was to be believed, was both relieving and worrying. Kayneth knew, only too well, what kind of monstrosity that Berserker was – that amount of _mana_ and _prana_ exceeded Lancer's by at least three or four times, and when seen, it seemed that his then-thought Master had a complete control over the monster.

And if that had been true, then Kayneth would've been in a deep trouble, relying only on Berserker's Master to lose his control over the beast somehow. The brat looked like someone with a quick temper to boot; surely it wouldn't take much to anger him to the degree that kind of scenario would be possible.

Kayneth categorically refused to believe this… runt could've have had any chance against him, Kayneth from the illustrious and mighty family of Archibald. They may have not been as important as the Great Three, who had founded the Grail Wars as sure fire way to pursuit the Akasha, but they were damned closer than some street urchin that had the gall to insult both his lovely fiancé and him in same breath.

Still, the said street urchin, if Lancer's reports were correct, summoned Archer out of all things. Which was good, because Archer required less mana than that beast of a Berserker, but also bad, as Lancer didn't manage to discern the identity of Archer in question - only that the red-clad Servant was worryingly close to his Master, This could only bode ill for their opponent, for if both Master and Servant were of the same mind, even if they were weak, they could do great deal of damage. Oh, Kayneth wasn't worried much - the brat would make a mistake sooner than later, and if Archer by any chance survived his hypothetically dearly departed Master, Kayneth was well-prepared for that eventuality too, what with his _Volumen Hydrargyrum._ The seemingly innocuous blob of silver was currently in a small vial in the inner pocket of his robe against his chest.

A smug smirk curled think pips for an instant, before it vanished off just as quickly.

The illuminated streets below were akin to ordered chaos - some were still, and some moved, in both red and white colors - at least moving ones. The hotel, Chosen by Kayneth was in one of more ancient districts, so there was less noise and overall light pollution, which was even lessened by thick hotel walls.

"But Kayneth, Lancer did the best he could, surely you could see that." Sola spoke from the couch, lazily swirling up and about a glass of wine, her yes half-lidded, and Kayneth didn't need to turn to her to know that her eyes were hungrily feasting on that useless wretch kneeling on the carpet.

His mood souring even more, Kayneth couldn't help scowl. "Did he really?" He snapped, his voice a tad bit too harsh, but Sola didn't budge.

" _Mm-hm."_ She hummed, daintily drinking a tiny sip from the glass. Bourbon was her favorite, after all.

"He told us precisely _nothing."_ Kayneth fought a sour taste in his mouth. He fought not to turn and look at her – even as lovely as she was, he despised seeing her admire some other man so brazenly like she did Lancer right then. "That brat could be a danger, and he couldn't be and the only saving grace is that he doesn't have that mad dog on the chain." He sneered at the thought of the said mad dog. Berserker was just that - and it was honestly a miracle of miracles that it behaved so well for such an annoying brat.

* * *

Diarmuid could do nothing but to lower his hand. "I am sorry, Master. May I do better next time?" he kept his tone properly subservient, even in the face of Kayneth's disdain of his person. But inside, he couldn't help but agree with Harry's description of his Master as a … like Harry had said - ' _fucking cactus.'_

He felt a pang of envy when he thought of that Archer and his luck of having been chosen as Harry's Servant. Even so little of a time Diarmuid had spent with the duo, he could see honest affection and devotion between the two of them, even with all the snark going on in the meantime. Both of them were more like sworn blood brothers than Master and Servant. Diarmuid felt a little bit guilty that his oaths as a knight inclined him to report about their circumstances to Kayneth – He fought a frown when he thought of his master not as his Master like he ought to have, but just some unrelated person that was, per chance, in charge of this venture.

Cold ice blue eyes stared down at him and Diarmuid ought to feel smaller than a gnat, about to be crushed. He had disappointed his Master, and failed in his duty as a knight. But for some reason, he couldn't quite muster the proper amount of guilt. If anything, that feeling, being pinned as a bug by those eyes was annoying and making him itch for a spear or two to save the issue of the cause of him feeling like a such in properly violent manner.

"Give me a chance, master. Just a _chance._ I promise I will do better." Words dripped from his mouth, a poisoned honey, desperate and oozing with the devotion he just couldn't bring himself to feel for real.

It ought to be disappointing, that disillusionment, that kind of disenchantment, but Diarmuid had lived through harsher times and much greater disappointments. Him not getting his wish… well, it was just a pair for the course.

"But will you really?" His Master- Kayneth - _'Master'_ \- Diarmuid forced himself to think – asked him, his voice full of sarcasm. "My last order was so simple it could've been understood even by _imbeciles._ Instead, I got practically _nothing_." Kayneth's sneer was a visible presence in the room, filling it with its derisive tone and jagged inflection.

"I will, Master! Please!" Well, now Diarmuid really sounded close to begging. He heard a quick inhale from Master's fiancé on the couch, but kept his attention on Kay-Master, making his eyes bigger and more desperate.

"Kayneth…" Master's fiancé's voice was soft and doting and Diarmuid felt goosebumps going up his spine. He knew that tonel. In fact, he had known it only too well.

This was the tone that spelt his doom his last life. But now, Diarmuid forced himself to relax and accept it.

It was his golden ticket out of this hellhole, and for that Diarmuid was willing to endure it.

 _Somehow._

He must have looked a pretty pathetic sight, for Kayneth - _Master_ , Diarmuid had to remind himself once again – looked away from him with a sigh of disgust passing his lips.

"Get out of my sight." Kayneth snapped at him. Diarmuid almost scampered in his haste to comply to that command, but not before hearing Sola's shrill voice call out her fiancé for taking away her eye-candy.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

" _Are you sure you don't want to join my army?"_

 _This was the twentieth question asked by hopeful Rider in last hour since they - meaning Waver, Rider and Kuzuki - returned to Waver's base of operation aka that house with kind elderly couple._

" _I have to decline." And much to Waver's frustration Kuzuki's answer was the same, each and every goddamn time. The man didn't even have a common courtesy to shape it otherwise - but instead, he used one and the same sentence, never mind that Rider was doing more or less the same time._

 _It was honestly meeting of an unstoppable force with the immovable object, what with Rider being the unstoppable force in the question, and Kuzuki being the immovable object in the same question._

 _First three times, it was entertaining. Next four times it was annoying, and all the other times practically made Wave wish he could tear off his ears and be done with it._

 _Same old, same old and One More Time, and Waver was bound and determined to cause homicide - he didn't care for the target, not really - just that one of them would fucking_ cease _their inane repetitive answers._

 _There was already a vein throbbing at his left temple, and oh, hello, migraine was also on the horizon._

"Rider." _He tried._

" _Are you sure – " Yeah, Rider ignored him as usual. As if he didn't exist. Waver felt his right vein pop, too. But he inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to calm down with couting from ten backwards. In pig latin._

 _Sadly, Waver's ears were in_ excellent _form that day, so he continued to suffer._

" _I have to decline." This time, Kuzuki didn't even have the courtesy of letting Rider finish his sentence._

" _Rider, he said_ no." _Waver tried. Honestly, it was like dealing with a stubborn three year old wanting cake instead of a grown-ass legendary warrior._

" _But that doesn't mean he won't say yes!" Rider's enthusiasm, which would've been appreciated in different time and situation, was now anything but._

" _Rider. I swear to_ God _, if you don't cease bothering him with your whining, I will use one of my Command Seals to have you dancing clothed in hot pink tutu and leotard for the rest of the War. With sparkles and ballet shoes included." Waver's voice was dull, as if speaking to a robot. Kuzuki's emotionless eyes became wider at hearing Waver's little Law of Consequences._

" _Wahaha, a true man fears nothing!" Rider laughed boisterously as he patted Waver on his back, almost knocking him over._

 _Kuzuki, on the other hand, looked at Waver.(Not desperate. never desperate. Just pre-empting a possible damage to his mind. Yeah, that was it.)  
_

" _At least give me a chance to gouge my eyes out first."_

 _Waver gave him a sweet smile._ Too _sweet of one, really. Kuzuki wouldn't admit it, but he shrank back at the sight._

 _Sweetly smiling Waver with dead eyes was a_ dangerous _Waver._

" _Well, you could look absolutely_ spiffy _in an orange ensemble, really."_

 _Kuzuki gulped, feeling the blood drain from his face at a record speed._

… _Scratch that, Waver was positively_ lethal.


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim the characters and the song, but otherwise, the story was written by me.

 **Shout Out:** Back to Harry's baby ducklings, more or less. And angst. It's becoming kind of a mess, at least from the kids' side. Grail War doesn't baby anyone, sorry to say. So there are hard lessons to learn in order to grow up some.

 **Warnings:** _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, little Kyoya trying to be his carnivore self ( _and failing_ ), with Xanxus learning some big no-no's about ladies - or appropriate comments about them. Not beta-read.

* * *

 _When I get older I will be stronger  
They'll call me freedom just like a wavin' flag  
And then it goes back, and then it goes back  
And then it goes back, and then it goes  
And then it goes_

( _'Wavin' Flag'_ , by K'Naan, original version)

* * *

Ever since he was young, Waver Velvet got Aspirations, with capital A. It was more of a foolish, half-baked dream, what with him having only tiniest shreds of information to go off, ever since he first caught wind of it.

It was an accident, like many things are, a passing fancy, if you will; but something within Waver perked up and took notice. Maybe it was his childlike fascination with magic - in this world, so filled with reality, what child wouldn't dream of being magical, of making something out of nothing with sparkly lights and awesome sounds?

But for Waver, this could be reality. It was an ever distant reality, his little utopia - his parents had tried to divert him from attaining it, but Waver wasn't deterred. No matter the obstacles - his family had been poor and his mother had done only so much of magecraft as to appease the grandmother. As a third generation, Waver didn't have any prominent heritage or riches to prosper in such cold and harsh environment as Clock Tower.

But little Waver was persistent. He had a dream. The obstacles on his way to them seemed almost insurmountable - his parents had died, he had practically nothing to go on with. Having met Harry was both a salvation and a stroke of dumb luck in one, as the older teen helped him to reach Clock Tower, along with financing his schooling. Waver didn't know how did Harry even know whom to pay, considering that Waver had been close-mouthed about Clock Tower's _special_ courses, and the said Clock Tower's _ancient_ practices of handling their finances - cold, hard cash, rare materials or scripts, instead of modern use of credit cards - it was really a small wonder that Magi even knew and used credit cards outside their little sphere of influence. Still, Waver got even more motivated to reach his goal, his motivation having been boosted even more when he found out that Harry was missing.

 _Ten years._ Ten godforsaken years of Harry not replying to any of his letters. Waver didn't know what to do, until one fateful evening when he had been tasked with the task to pass to that El-Melloi prick of his mentor his catalyst for the Grail War.

Waver was desperate - and more importantly, _spiteful_ enough - to take a chance. Finding material on Grail War and its proceedings in the vast bowels of the Clock Tower's library was honestly a joke, what with the materials being available to anyone who knew where to find them. And Waver, what with his obsession with knowledge, definitely knew where to find them... and most importantly, how to use the said materials.

(There was also that cute little booklet, strangely named _Grail War For Dummies_ , written by K.Z.S. which was an absolute treasure trove of facts, tidbits and whatnot on the subjects. Waver couldn't believe anyone managed to ignore _that_ , but for some reason, nobody deemed that book as important, despite its contents.)

Waver took his chance, and booked it the same evening he decided to keep El-Melloi's catalyst. But if he had known that his suffering would've been continued in the shape of the man-child that was Alexander the Great, he would've broken into the Treasury and stole another of the artifacts stored here, consequences be damned.

And now, Waver was stuck with that man-child of a Servant who was trying to persuade one Kuzuki Soichiro to join his army. As much as Waver was happy to see Kuzuki, he was not happy to bear with Rider's way of a sales pitch to have him join his _Ionian Hetairoi._

(Honestly, if Waver hadn't known better, he would've thought that Rider was trying to recruit Kuzuki for some perverted outing or something.)

* * *

Waver's eyebrow twitched when he was once again subjected to be a witness to the man's persistent nagging.

"Are you sure you don't want to join my army?"

This was the twentieth question asked by hopeful Rider in last hour since they - meaning Waver, Rider and Kuzuki - returned to Waver's base of operations aka that house with kind elderly couple.

"I have to decline." And much to Waver's frustration Kuzuki's answer was the same, each and every goddamn time. The man didn't even have a common courtesy to shape it otherwise - but instead, he used one and the same sentence, never mind that Rider was doing more or less the same.

It was honestly meeting of an unstoppable force with the immovable object, what with Rider being the unstoppable force in the question, and Kuzuki being the immovable object in the same question.

First three times, it was entertaining. Next four times it was annoying, and all the other times practically made Waver wish he could tear off his ears and be done with it.

Same old, same old and One More Time, and Waver was bound and determined to cause homicide - he didn't care for the target, not really - just that one of them would fucking _cease_ their inane repetitive answers.

There was already a vein throbbing at his left temple, and oh, hello, migraine was also on the horizon.

" _Rider."_ He tried.

"Are you _sure_ – " Yeah, Rider ignored him as usual. As if he didn't exist. Waver felt his right vein pop, too. But he inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to calm down with counting from ten backwards. In pig latin.

Sadly, Waver's ears were in _excellent_ form that day, so he continued to suffer.

"I have to decline." This time, Kuzuki didn't even have the courtesy of letting Rider finish his sentence.

"Rider, he said _no."_ Waver tried. Honestly, it was like dealing with a stubborn three year old wanting cake instead of a grown-ass legendary warrior.

"But that doesn't mean he won't say yes!" Rider's enthusiasm, which would've been appreciated in different time and situation, was now anything but.

" _Rider._ I swear to _God,_ if you don't _cease_ bothering him with your whining, I will use one of my Command Seals to have you dancing clothed in hot pink tutu and leotard for the rest of the War. With sparkles and ballet shoes included." Waver's voice was dull, as if speaking to a robot. Kuzuki's emotionless eyes became wider at Waver's little Law of Consequences.

" _Wahaha_ , a true man fears nothing!" Rider laughed boisterously as he patted Waver on his back, almost knocking him over.

Kuzuki, on the other hand, looked at Waver.

"At least give me a chance to gouge my eyes out first."

Waver gave him a sweet smile. Too sweet of one, really. Kuzuki wouldn't admit it, but he shrank back at the sight.

Sweetly smiling Waver with dead eyes was a dangerous Waver.

"Well, you would look absolutely _spiffy_ in an orange ensemble, really."

Kuzuki gulped, feeling the blood drain from his face at a record speed.

… Scratch that, Waver was positively _lethal._

Logically speaking, Kuzuki knew that Waver didn't have any extra powers if one excluded him having Command Seals over Rider. But Waver having the balls to threaten Kuzuki with ballerina's attire was a reason enough for Kuzuki to be cautious.

Still, he breathed a sigh of relief that Rider seemed fit to indulge his frail young charge and cease pestering Kuzuki, to both of the ordinary humans' relief.

* * *

"What is going on?" Kuzuki's question caused Waver to look up from his cup of ramen. The trio had decided to have a late dinner - actually, it was the only food Waver could offer to Kuzuki on such a short notice, without waking up the old couple he was using as his cover family.

Waver couldn't help but scowl when he was being reminded about the mess he was currently in the middle of.

"War. A Grail War, to be precise."

Kuzuki remained implacable. "Does this have to do anything with a maniac running around murdering kids with his accomplice?"

" _What!?"_ Waver forced himself not to jump on his feet. "How did you come to such a conclusion?" Rider was silent as he paused from his third helping that night.

Kuzuki shrugged. "I witnessed them murdering a child." His voice was blank monotone, causing Waver to recoil from him, before outrage won over his shock. "And you didn't do _anything?"_ He snapped at the assassin, momentarily forgetting just who was he speaking to.

"I couldn't have done anything without more information on the target. Besides, I was too late to prevent it, anyway." Kuzuki replied, as if he were talking about weather.

" _You - !"_ Waver had to clench his jaw not to spit out something extremely unflattering. Inhaling a deep breath, he tried to remind himself that Kuzuki wasn't a bad person, really, but he couldn't just overlook that the bastard in question just left an innocent kid to die.

Dull gray eyes stared into Waver's incensed ones.

' _Calm. Keep calm. Keep the fuck_ _ **calm**_ _.'_ Waver chanted to himself. He had known that there would be casualties, but it rankled at him that they had to come in the shape of children. What rankled him even more, was that Kuzuki had done literally nothing to prevent one of the said casualties –

"He had an accomplice. Called him Caster." Contrarily to Waver's increasing ire, Kuzuki was calm as cucumber, not even caring about Rider stilling beside him, the muscle-bound man apparently more than ready to snuff Kuzuki's life out of him for upsetting Waver. Kuzuki placed the chopsticks onto the table, his grey eyes boring into Waver's shock-frozen ones. "I ask you again. Are they connected to the Grail War?"

Mutely, Waver nodded.

"I thought so." Kuzuki exhaled a breath, his shoulders slumping minutely, before he gazed back at Waver, this time his eyes were like twin grey abysses. "And considering you have a… _Rider,_ it's safe to say you are involved. The only question is _, how."_ Neither Waver nor Rider didn't overhear the subtle threat in the man's voice if the answers he was about to get were not to his liking.

Waver bit his lip as his hands clenched around his chopsticks. Was it normal for him to feel so small again? So very helpless? Have his efforts to better himself, amounted only to this?

"I wanted to find you!" He blurted out, disregarding Rider's darkening eyes at his admission. But Waver continued, his words speeding up, tripping over themselves in his haste to get them out of his mind where they had been festering for so long. "I wanted to find you all – I received a notice that my letters were not reaching Harry, despite my tuition being paid for, a-and I feared the worst and I tried to find you with rituals but you were nowhere to be found - !" In his frustration, he slapped the chopsticks on the table, disregarding the warning crinkle of the plastic cup in his other hand as he leaned forward, glaring at those lifeless gray eyes. "I didn't have a fucking clue where the fuck you lot were –and I wanted _answers._ The Grail War - I had hoped I could find them here, but what a fucking _surprise,_ you are here, too – " He choked, his emotions overwhelming him, and to his shame, Waver felt his eyes fill with tears of frustration. Angrily, he shoved the cup onto the table and they wiped the annoying moisture out of his eyes, but as soon as he wiped them out, it came back.

He felt a warm, wide hand on his back, supporting him as he sniffled, helplessly allowing himself to fall apart.

Kuzuki was silent.

"If that's the case, why did you try to find them?" Rider's rumble was a soothing one, even when Kuzuki was subjected to the ancient King's angry glare for daring to upset Waver so.

"They are my family." Four words hovered between the three of them, spoken out, never to be taken back. The edges of Waver's mouth trembled uncontrollably when he finally admitted it aloud.

 _Family_. They were his family - not only Harry, even if Harry was the first one to help Waver after that disastrous sequence of events, but there were also Xanxus and Iri, never mind the trouble that unrepentant duo dragged him into, and there was Kirei, Kuzuki and Kiritsugu, all three of them faithful guard dogs to Harry, yet surely more than that, what with Kirei and Kiritsugu bickering between the two of them and Kuzuki's silent support in the shape of freshly brewed warm tea those long nights when Waver struggled through that unreasonable load his mentor had gave him for the day -

Waver didn't dare to look at the assassin after his admission, fearing what response would his words wring out of the man.

"Waver." Waver didn't dare to breathe at Kuzuki's call. "I am sorry." The apology caused Waver to recoil with surprise, his body tensing in anticipation of rejection that was sure to come.

"I am sorry you had to bear all that for so long." Kuzuki's monotonous voice could be called heartless what with it being devoid of emotions, as if the assassin were only a very intelligent AI.

"But I do know that Harry would never, ever wanted to leave you behind. And... Neither would we."

A sharp inhale at Kuzuki's admission slash apology hurt even more, a bullet of air speeding into Waver's starving lungs.

"T-then, why didn't you c-contact me?" Waver choked out, finally daring to look at Kuzuki feeling like a lost puppy adrift on a piece of wood at sea.

Rider was silent, warm presence behind him, allowing Waver to draw on that warmth for courage he sorely lacked at that moment.

"We didn't leave willingly." Kuzuki paused allowing Waver to absorb the idea. "When you had gone to London, we've stayed in Rome for a time, before deciding to move on. What we didn't expect, was for us to get caught into some kind of a summoning ritual and ending in _Japan_ of all places." He shook his head. "As I've told you, the ritual scattered all of us - I don't know where the others are, and I can't reach out to them." Dark eyebrows furrowed with discontent. "For all I know they may have ended on another continent altogether."

"But you still could've contacted me!" Waver snapped out, glaring at the assassin, still feeling hurt, even if explanation made a worrying amount of sense.

Grey eyes clashed with infuriated green ones. "You misunderstood. The ritual displaced us ten years into the future." Kuzuki countered.

Waver stared.

" _Bullshit."_ But even as he spoke out the words, Waver had a sinking feeling that they were true.

Why else would've his searching after them fail so consistently? This was only possible if one literally _vanished_ off the Earth, so to speak - Waver didn't shirk about trying both mundane and magical means to find his family, and some could've said he had become something of an expert on the subject.

Still, that particular truth was a little bit too outlandish to accept without a token resistance.

"Agreed." Kuzuki resumed eating his now cooled down ramen noodles, never mind they turned into a tasteless glop.

Swallowing a bite, he continued. "But thinking about it, this is the only thing that makes sense in all that mess."

"You're _not_ helping!" Waver snapped back, shaking off some of the shock.

Good lord, now he was missing Clock Tower already. As much as Waver loathed to admit, even to himself, there was at least some kind of logic roaming around, even with that troll Zelretch added into equation - wait, no, that didn't sound _right_ –

"But you can help. Tell me about that Grail War you are apparently involved in." Kuzuki replied back and right then; Waver couldn't help but hate the bastard with the passion of thousand suns.

Sighing, he began to talk.

* * *

Currently, Xanxus was sulking in the living room, his arms crossed on his chest, and his head throbbing with pain.

"You deserved it." Kiritsugu was wholly unsympathetic to his plight, considering that the little brat had caught Saber coming out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel and then dared to comment on a) her being a woman and then b) her not so… _bountiful_ chest, and then furthermore loudly wondering if the Servant was some kind of a she-male.

Of course, the said she-male in question hadn't taken that lying down but instead gave Xanxus an ample reason to fear her ire.

" _Bastard._ You could've at least warned me, ya know." Xanxus hissed as he glowered at Kiritsugu who was checking over his weapons.

"But that would mean you would learn precisely nothing." Kiritsugu smirked at the kitty brat, amused.

(Kiritsugu would never, ever, tell him he had made the exact same mistake with Natalia. His mentor, contrarily to Saber, smiled at him with the sweetest smile imaginable, said _'Is that so?'_ and then proceeded to make his week utter _hell_ until Kiritsugu literally _begged_ on his knees for her forgiveness. In Kiritsugu's eyes, Xanxus had gotten off _easy_ , the lucky little shit he was.)

Xanxus humphed as he looked away from the Magus Killer.

"What the fuck were you _thinking_ , blowing up the Matou residence like that, you idiot?" Kiritsugu's sharp voice caused Xanxus to jump in his seat with fright.

Cautious red eyed looked into black ones of his mentor. "I saved her from shitty life?" Xanxus would never, ever dare to admit he squeaked out.

An uncomfortable pause ensued between the duo. Xanxus cautiously shifted in his seat. He would've liked to hightail out rather than to weather hell coming his way, but even he knew what he had done was utter stupidity. If it weren't for Kiritsugu saving the trio in literally last moment possible, the burning ceiling would've buried Xanxus and his two burdens under its weight. _Permanently._

Kiritsugu opened his mouth and Xanxus couldn't help but wince in advance.

"Were you perhaps sitting on your _ears_ when I was talking to you about the dangers of combining your Flame with Iri's?" Kiritsugu's voice was even - or as even as one could have it, considering his infamous temper. Being a Magus Killer for so long had dulled it, as he channeled it into his pursuits, but that didn't mean he was stone cold corpse.

Xanxus winced harder. That lecture had been legendary - never mind he had used the Flames to save Iri, he had caused so much trouble for Kiritsugu and Harry at time it wasn't even funny. Both of them - Xanxus and Iri - had been forbidden to experiment with their Flames in a way that required mixing them. But of course, it happened again.

"But I had to - !" Xanxus tried to defend his stupid choice. Kiritsugu said nothing, and Xanxus had a sinking feeling he had just dug his grave deeper.

Looking back, he didn't have to. _Not really_. But - Xanxus gritted his teeth - there was no fucking _way_ he would be leaving Iri in that shitty hellhole without getting at least _some_ retaliation for his little sister.

When he saw her, chained at the wall, her clothes rags on her and with that blank, vacant expression on her face, something within roared with pain, anger and fury. If it weren't for Sakura holding onto him, he would've combusted into Death Flames then and there.

"You could've left house _intact._ That way, you would have a free range of exits." Kiritsugu's voice was even, as if he was talking about weather, and that made the situation all the worse.

"You had two persons to take care of to get to safety. Why did you _think_ it was a _splendid_ idea to burn absolutely everything and anything to the ground before concluding that task?"

"You haven't seen them." Xanxus' voice was small, but gotten stronger as he remembered that pit of despair. "You haven't seen them," he repeated, growling. "You haven't seen those fucking worms! You haven't witnessed how they bit into Sakura's body, crawled over it, you haven't listened to their fucking _chitter_ , as if they were fucking _laughing_ while they were devouring her! You haven't seen her going down to that godforsaken hole, letting herself be vio – "He choked down the last word, not having the guts to speak of the heinous happening he had witnessed back then.

Kiritsugu's face was emotionless as he listened to Xanxus raging on the couch.

"You are fucking _heartless_ , aren't you?" Xanxus spat at him, those red eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "You would just _left_ her into that fucking slaughterhouse to die, wouldn't you?" Xanxus' lips stretched into a parody of victorious grin, "After all, that is what Magus Killer _does_ , isn't it?"

" _Enough."_ Only one word fell from Kiritsugu's lips, the young man's body still as if crafted from the coldest, heaviest stone in existence.

Xanxus stilled when he saw those dark eyes flash with red and violet, a sure sign Kiritsugu was wholly pissed off. He paled when he saw the man reach for an antique gun in front of him.

A Thompson Contender.

Long, slender fingers caressed the gun, and Xanxus swallowed. He didn't know just why was Kiritsugu toting a round apiece of absolutely prehistoric gun weapon like this, but something told him that he really didn't want to know all the same.

"The world is not fair. The sooner you realize that, the better off you will be." Those words, even spoken with a casual air, thundered in Xanxus' ears. "This is not a game. There's no do-over button. You make a mistake; you are stuck with it for _life_."

Red and violet streaks vanished from those abyssal eyes, leaving them bare of their light, twin voids that bore into Xanxus' own terrified crimson orbs.

"There are no heroes - there are only times when you have to sacrifice less than other times. This time, you got lucky."

Silently, Kiritsugu stood up, dragging Xanxus' attention toward him like a leopard would gazelle onto the tree. "This time, you sacrificed your chance to get the two of them to safety in order to burn the house down. Tell me, what do you intend to sacrifice the next time this happens? Their _lives?"_

He exited the room, leaving a thunderstruck Xanxus on the couch to contemplate the question he had flung at him.

* * *

Coming outside, Kiritsugu leaned against the wall wearily, exhaling a long breath as he slowly dragged his palm across his face as an oath spilled past his lips.

" _Goddamit."_

That shitty brat had a really uncanny sense to kick the proverbial spots where it hurt, didn't he?

He started as a small, cold hand touched his other one. Only by sheer will he reigned himself not to make any sudden violent movements.

Blank red eyes looked into his own ones as the small, white, haired girl squeezed his hand as if to comfort him.

Kiritsugu's lips crooked themselves into a parody of grin as the girl voicelessly cuddled against his side, twining his own arm around her in a half-hug the best she could.

"Oh, Iri…" Sighing, he let himself slide down against the wall until he sat down, prompting the little girl to climb into his lap and cuddle against him, blank red eyes slowly closing down with trust as Kiritsugu began to thread his hand through her hair.

Head tilting up, Kiritsugu closed his eyes, thankful for the moment of reprieve given to him by Iri.

Still, he couldn't help but feel that gap in his chest, denoting Harry's absence, now even more so than ever before.

* * *

Dull aquamarine eyes stared at the ceiling as the little girl lying in the bed exhaled and inhaled, cocooned in the leftover warmth of her companions, along with her own.

The ceiling was nothing special - dull white color, with beige walls, a generic bedroom, as it were, with no personal touches over the room. She could hear a distant roar of transport vehicles moving under the window, so different from the deaf silence of the house she had been extracted out from.

She remembered the boy with blazing red eyes and scowl on his face. She remembered the boy's … sister, her unusual white hair and ruby red eyes, both of the siblings a curious contrast to each other.

 _(She remembered the loud little girl demanding for her Papa's attention, pouting and giggling and running around, a hand in her own, a voice encouraging her to join in, a colorful ball and laughter –_

 _-which she didn't want to remember. Never again. )_

She remembered the scent, the screeching voice of the worms dying in the fire and the roar of the boy when he saw his little sister being chained against the wall and used as some kind of battery –

She remembered the heat, almost painful in the intensity that licked places around them, the storm which the duo incited when they summoned their strange flames, cackling green and orange stripped with red, which ought to be impossible but the two were impossibility in and of themselves, so she shouldn't have been surprised to see the wings of flame flare from the duo, setting the room ablaze –

She remembered blood and gunpowder and darkness when the three of them had been carried out into to unknown, and Sakura would've tried to rebel, but some tiny part of her wanted to live, to remember, to make memories - she didn't want or need or cared to make –

She remembered the orders that were now rendered obsolete and useless because there was nothing to fulfill the orders with, she was a broken, abandoned, useless _tool_ and it was only a matter of time when she would be abandoned again.

Spares always were. Abandoned. Discarded. Disregarded, until someone found use of them.

And oh, did that _hurt._

A small stray tear welled in the corner of his right eye, noiselessly sliding down the skin onto the fabric beside her face.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Young Hibari Kyoya had a very clearly defined understanding of people around him. Either they were herbivores - that was a depressing majority – or they were carnivores - which was even more frustrating for the boy, because they were generally stronger and thus he was unable to properly bite them to death._

 _There was also matter of mating habits. Also very simple - herbivores with herbivores, carnivores with carnivores. No exceptions. His mother was carnivore, and his father was also carnivore, as it was prim and proper for such a union. So it was understandable that Kyoya had superior carnivore pedigree._

 _Kyoya prospered in such an environment - he had enough of herbivores to bite to death, if they annoyed him, and there were few carnivores that would truly disturb his territory. The occasions when there was strong enough of a carnivore to enter his territory - and to stay here - were few and far between._

 _(He wasn't fond of such occasions but he understood that it was a natural way of things. That, however, didn't stop him from sharpening his fangs to advance in the carnivore ladder as it were.)_

 _One such carnivore was that not-baby carnivore in red. He didn't know why his parents allowed that pathetic not-baby carnivore to occasionally den in their territory - despite his strength, that particular carnivore more or less moped in his room or in the garden, his comings and goings unpredictable as the wind._

 _The not- baby carnivore was kind, to the point of being an herbivore. (Kyoya could attest the not- baby was anything but carnivore, with many bumps and bruises gained in his unsuccessful attempts to drive the said not-baby carnivore out of his territory.) But that wasn't what set his teeth on edge. It was that constant, dull, almost mopey look on his face, especially when he had gone to the park, usually settling himself into some tree and looking at the herbivores here._

 _Now, Kyoya wasn't stupid, and noticed that the said not-baby carnivore watched those sickeningly sweet herbivorous couples that were courting each other. Constantly. It was enough to make him gag, but as the true carnivore Kyoya was, he persisted in his observations._

 _Next time Kyoya noticed was that the said pathetic not-baby carnivore's attention was drawn to male herbivores with dark, messy hair. Next, the ones who held his attention the longest were herbivores who had green eyes. Not that there was an abundance of them, but Kyoya had noticed the trend nevertheless._

 _Finally, Kyoya had had it. There were herbivores to teach their place, and carnivores to bite to death, and he was not the one to baby anyone, never mind that not-baby carnivore._

 _So one day, he marched straight to the not-baby carnivore in question, glared into his taken-aback eyes and snapped at him._

" _Stop being a cowardly herbivore and learn how to mate already!"_


	64. Chapter 64

_**Disclaimer:**_ I disclaim the song and characters, but I do own the story. Madness, I tell you.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ This is a mess. Story is now living its own life and I am a bit weirded out how this goes. But this is life, so there's no real guaranteed happily ever after, so there's that. Reunion is in the works, but not everything will go straight and narrow path.

Because there was one curious reader, who asked me where did I get an idea for Archer's attire when Harry summoned him the second time (with Lancer's little help), it's based on the picture drawn by **byulrorqual,** their works are on **zerochan** under **Archer (Fate/stay night) Mobile Wallpaper.**

 _ **Warning:**_ _**AU**_ -verse on multiple scales, Kirei is being scary, Kariya is being stupid and Berserker plots. Warning: Berserker _plots._ (Abandon the ship, all ye who want to survive.) There's the mention of traumatized tuna, so here we go. Also, not beta read. (Writing dangerously, that I do.)

* * *

 _What would you think if I sang out of tune,  
would you stand up and walk out on me?  
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song  
and I'll try not to sing out of key.  
Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends  
mm, I get high with a little help from my friends  
mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends  
What do I do when my love is away  
(does it worry you to be alone?)  
How do I feel by the end of the day,  
(are you sad because you're on your own?)_

 _('With a Little Help Of My Friends' by The Beatles)_

* * *

Dull brown eyes stared at the elder priest and elegantly clothed man as they chatted about the prospects in the war.

Their owner was sitting at the table, and considering that neither of the two involved in the talk gave him any amount of attention, it could be said that he didn't even exist. At least not to them, and that was just fine to the young man who was listening to them planning and plotting…

… actually, no, right now the dandy-like man was bragging to the priest about his family, his smile foolishly wide and voice animated as he reminisced about some or other thing his darling little Rin had done some or another day.

Silently, he stood up, leaving both of the elder men to their amusements while he strode out of the room, a ghost made in flesh, so quiet were his steps and overall movements.

He walked through the darkened halls of the house, seemingly lost in thought, dutiful only to their sacred goal of obtaining the Holy Grail and Root of Akasha, a pious, selfless man, a human weapon for holy forces, undaunted and untainted by the mires of worldly evils running amok among humankind as a whole.

Shadows swayed in the interplay of darkness and light, his steps echoing through the corridors slightly as he moved, unhurried and purposeful.

Finally he reached the door of his room, and let himself in. Closing the door, he then moved to the modest bed and sat down, his fingers brushing, if only for a moment, the golden cross on his chest.

"Assassin." It was more of a breath than a world, but the shadows came to his call, converging and merging in front of him into a kneeling shadow? Person? Shadow? In front of him. The shadow's body was skinny with an androgynous cast, the head hidden within dark gray hood and face unable to be seen as the shadow hunched on the floor in front of its caller.

Its' head bobbed in acknowledgement, but the Assassin itself - for that was what it was - remained mute.

Its master eyes rested on it, dispassionate and cold, not reflecting any thought he may have had about its appearance.

"Find them." There was no need for him to describe just who 'them' were, as his finger touched the Assassin's forehead - or at least where the forehead ought to have been, transferring mental images of Assassin's target directly to it. The Assassin shuddered at the flow of information - it was a minute tremble, almost invisible to the inexperienced eye, but to him, it was clear as a cloudless sky. But he didn't care to feel bothered about its discomfort.

This was more important. Another intake of breath, cold and stale, despite the room having been aired half an hour ago. But without him, all of the air he was currently breathing was meaningless.

"Find him – them, and then report it to me." Less than a whisper, more than a breath, but the Assassin comprehended and acknowledged its new orders with a bow.

As it tried to rise, its master spoke to it again, freezing it in the middle of movement.

"Report it - to me, alone." There was something like steel in the emotionless voice there, something that caused the Assassin to hesitate, whether it was in indecision, confusion or something else, it was unknown.

It lifted its head, the bone white mask in the shape of half-skull in its face glaring at the living. Hollows where eyes ought to have were dark and unresponsive. Their gazes clashed, lasting for what it seemed to be an eternity, but was in truth a mere moment.

It bowed a short, but deep bow and then vanished, as if it had never been there a figment of nightmarish imagination, leaving its Master to his thought in the room that may as well be a prison cell, despite his ability to come and go to and from it as he pleased. The lone young man in the room retracted his arm.

His eyelids lowering to a half-mast, the young priest allowed himself to slump back onto the bed, his blank face cast melting away to reveal a surprisingly vulnerable one beneath, but as if he were ashamed, the priest covered half of his face with a right forearm, as if to block both darkness and light streaming into the room in a dull dance of ever-present shadows.

He still felt some aches and pains in his body, which he ignored with a willful stubbornness, but it was getting tiresome, and making him all the more weary of having to play this duplicitous game.

Kirei was no stranger to casting a persona to satisfy the masses' expectations of him as a priest's son, but this now surely was another circle of Hell, constructed solely for him.

Keeping himself to play ignorant, moldable weapon for both Tohsaka and Father Risei day in and day out was proving to be an exercise in wits and patience. He wasn't happy that Tohsaka fool had tricked him into participating in Grail War so easily, and even less so, because the foolish man had the means to pinpoint where Harry and the others were, but Kirei was unable to ask him about them, lest he unwittingly summons the ire of Father Kotomine on Harry's head.

Kirei wanted to straight out murder Father Risei for what he had done to him that one time. So many time, lost and never to be retrieved, because it had to be done – parting him from Harry had to be done for the so-called Greater Good. Instead of that, he had to play dutiful son when Father Kotomine accepted him, even embraced him like a long lost son coming back to Lord's Holiest House.

But Kirei remembered - Kirei didn't forget and in the light of that, the young priest was bidding his time. It was hard to get from their combined sight – both Father Risei and that fool Tokiomi's, which delayed him in summoning Assassin in secret to giving it another set of orders, independent of ones he had to agree in the light of their little alliance.

A smooth, mellow chuckle came from the doors, but Kirei didn't move, despite the danger he had found himself in.

A danger clad in intricately done golden armor with ruby red eyes peering at him, entertained with his plight.

"You finally moved, didn't you? How amusing, the dog biting the hand it's being fed by."

"Gilgamesh." Kirei acknowledged the unwelcome guest. Red eyes flashed in warning, but surprisingly, the Golden Archer didn't refute his name.

"Your courage had grown stronger, mongrel. Do care to curb your tongue lest I deprive you of your life and lose the small bit of entertainment in that hovel of yours." A mocking smirk on those sinfully perfect lips taunted, daring the priest to disobey again.

"I would offer you apologies, but both of us know I wouldn't mean it." Kirei's voice was muffled, the priest still not caring to look at the ancient Heroic Spirit.

The spirit scowled, ruby eyes flashing with anger, but then, it smirked. "Of course not. Mongrel like you simply doesn't know better." The barb ought to sting, but -

"Or maybe you are just missing your non-existent wife. Tell me, have you confessed yet?" Kirei couldn't suppress a taken-aback finch at the accusation.

Ever since that evening, he and Gilgamesh were standing at proverbial loggerheads, as it were; Gilgamesh taking an unsubtle delight in suppressing his chances of summoning Assassin in secret to order it to search for Harry, and reveling in watching Kirei having to keep up his mask of an semi-ignorant, loyal little church boy in front of Father Risei and Tokiomi. Oh, there were shards of moments when Gilgamesh thought that Kirei would've let himself loose, where he would have shown his true colors, resplendent in their ugliness, but to Gilgamesh dismay and anticipation, that time was not there, at least not yet.

Kirei's silence was good enough of an answer and Gilgamesh chuckled at the priest's discomfort.

"You foolish _little boy_. You want to drink, but not offer a cup to be filled? Oh, where have your holy men gone wrong in teaching you?" Gilgamesh mocked as he stepped into the room, carelessly crossing over the floor before he came to the bed upon which Kirei was laying.

This time, Kirei deigned the golden man with a glare, but that only amused Gilgamesh all the more.

"But maybe that is the problem, isn't it? So holy and chaste, so very ignorant. Do you at least know how to _kiss,_ little priest?"

Kirei fought, and fought very hard. He had fought not to twitch, but that little golden bug was so aggravating Kirei really had to restrain himself not to take up Black Keys and use Gilgamesh as his newest test subject for his Flame blades.

 _Kissing Harry._ Now there was a thought Kirei avoided to think about with fervor. Keeping Harry for himself, yes, cuddling with him, no problem, being his friend, done, but that thin red line of intimacy taunted him, colored in even bolder red now that Gilgamesh pointed it out to him so blatantly.

"Why kiss him if I can spank him?"

For once, Gilgamesh was speechless.

Ahh, yes, the Spanking Incident when all three of them taught Harry about drawbacks of being too reckless for his own good. Involuntarily, the edges of Kirei's mouth lifted in a gentle smile as he reminisced of the punishment, and Harry's flushed face with teary eyes when he looked like wronged kitten.

A long, awkward pause. Kirei stilled. Did he spoke that last segment out loud?

Oops.

"Your courting habits are too terrifying." Gilgamesh finally declared before letting himself out of the room, seemingly unwilling to find out more the said mating habits of one particular priest.

* * *

Most of people perceive police station more of a necessary evil than something they would've associated with good experiences.

Harry's own certainly weren't ones of a good sort. But accompanying Kariya to identify the remains of what was supposed to be his family, however horrible they were, was in a class of its own.

The corpses were more or less burned out husks, what with that unnatural fire that had raged through the buildings, seemingly unable to be put down.

Hollowed out eye sockets, meat glued to the bones, causing the bodies look like a parody of skeletons draped over with toughened muscles and skin, however, charred and dried out they were. The smell, however - it was the worst. Harry had in his illustrious career of making potions experienced many afoul of a smell, but this one was special and vomit-inducing one. Worms and burned carcass, sickly sweet and cloying, overpowering ever the smell of smoke and ashes.

Closing his eyes, Harry wondered if it was selfish of him to be grateful that Voldemort hadn't maimed Cedric. If Killing Curse had one redeeming quality, was that it left the bodies of its victims intact, albeit dead. But this kind of death - Harry couldn't help but feel sick when he thought of it.

The worst thing was Kariya's face when he found out that nobody survived. It was as if life had been sucked out of him, leaving behind a shell of a person, without hopes or dreams for the better future.

Kariya had lost everyone. His brother. His nephew. His grandfather. And most of all, Sakura. That little girl surely had to be dead, for nobody could escape the living hell on earth that was ground zero of the fire breakout. And much to Kariya's dismay and Harry's confusion, that ground zero was some kind of a pit filled with worms.

"Kariya?" He gently prodded the man who was listlessly nursing a cup of strong coffee in his hands. "Hey, Kariya?"

The man was huddled in one of the blankets, reserved for shock victims, face sunken and eyes dulled as he stared into the sludge in the cup listlessly.

Harry exchanged a concerned glance with Archer. The Servant was currently clad in black jeans trousers with same colored long-sleeved shirt with dark grey jacket with black leather shoes. Simple but classy, even if attention grabbing because of Archer's dark tan. At first, Harry had argued against Archer going with him and Kariya, but Archer hadn't budged and somehow managed to procure normal looking clothes instead of the medieval looking ones.

"I failed." Kariya finally spoke, his voice half-broken. Harry quickly looked back at him, growing concerned when Kariya's shoulders shook uncontrollably.

"I don't understand how you could fail. You haven't been there." Harry was honestly confused.

"I failed because I haven't been here!" Kariya's tight voice ended in almost-yell, earning Harry's little group some curious stares, averted when they collided with Archer's own ferocious glare.

"Would anything have been different if you had? Been there, I mean?" Harry fought with himself not to flinch. He never dealt well with loud noises aimed at him.

Kariya shakily lifted his right arm and hid half of the good side of his face in the palm. "I swore to Aoi I would protect her. I failed. Sakura is dead." His voice teetered between the disbelief and heartbreak. "What kind of a shitty person am I? I can't do anything right. I can't even protect those entrusted to me right." The edges of his mouth trembled with suppressed emotion, his dead eyes now glassy with the sheen of tears.

Harry's heart fell in the pit as he had been uncomfortably remembered of his own helplessness.

 _Of Cedric._

 _Of graveyard._

 _Of killing green._

Harry forcibly pressed the unwelcome memories back in their cage, locked for another bad day. Not this one.

"Look – "He swallowed, an ugly ball lodged in his throat. "You've done the best you could. And besides, the police haven't found anything. You saw their skeletons. But there were none of Sakura's o-or Shinji."

"Because they were at the _ground zero_." Kariya spat out, his sightless eye widening with helpless rage and the lattice of veins surrounding it squirmed spasmodically. "You've heard Kodama-san. It's impossible that anything managed to survive being in the middle of the ground zero at that time.

Harry exchanged another helpless glance with Archer.

"Harry is right. You are giving up too early." Archer finally spoke up, his smooth voice relaxing some of the worry-knots in Harry's spine.

"They overturned _everything_. They found the pit; this is the lowest the entire thing could go - !" Kariya interrupted himself when Archer surged into his face.

" _Pit?_ The pit? The one with worms?" The white haired man asked Kariya, his intent razor-sharp.

Kariya's already ill complexion blanched even further before glared back at the Servant.

"You know something. " Three words, one sentence, but it chilled Harry to the bone.

Archer glared back at him. "Damned right I know something. I didn't connect it earlier, but you've given me just enough rope for me to hang your bastard ass. You left her alone didn't you." Even if Archer's tone was a conversational one, his tone was anything but. "You abandoned her. And most of all, you fucking _abandoned_ her to the pit."

Kariya became smaller with the each word Archer literally spat at him.

" _Archer!"_ Harry snapped, causing both of the older men to jerk with how sharp his voice was. "That was uncalled for! Kariya didn't do anything wrong – "

Archer let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes like frozen steel. In that moment, he looked like more a demon in human skin than anything else. "Damned right he didn't do anything. He let those two bastards abuse Sakura. Let him tell you what those pretty little worms do to a little girl's body _. Tell him_ , Matou. And don't even _think_ of letting anything out. Because if you _do_ \- believe me, I will _know."_

He shoved the frail man back, causing him to choke with pain as his back collided with the backrest, the hot coffee spilling over the fabric of blanket covering his lap.

Harry could clearly see the unwillingness on Kariya's face, that horrible vulnerability that came with revealing the ugly truth.

But Archer was there, like an angel of judgement, unmovable in his demand.

* * *

The truth was indeed horrific. Someone once said that there was nothing uglier yet lovelier than the truth.

Kariya was now truly the picture of a completely defeated man

Worms. In exchange for _prana,_ they cannibalized human's body, female one more so than male, because with males, they only fed on nerves, while with females, they had a veritable smorgasbord in the shape of sexual energy, if the female was properly stimulated.

This was the secret of Matou magecraft. Their greatest curse. Harry couldn't imagine that Magi could be more inhuman than Wizarding world, but that day, he had been proven otherwise.

Tohsaka Tokiomi, the man whose wedding Harry had attended as Kirei's plus one, literally sold his daughter to that old worm of a Zouken because she was, to say it politely, an unneeded spare. His own daughter. He couldn't imagine just how could that kind couple that had wed under the Italian sun, be so cruel as to give away one of their children.

Sakura's adoption into her new family wasn't a kind one, what with her being _'initiated'_ with having been thrown to those worms, her body defiled and devoured in the same measure, much to the girl's horror and despair.

"Do you hate me now?" Kariya's voice was broken, pressing into Harry's mind like glass shards, shattering his belief into good of the humankind even further.

Closing his eyes, Harry remembered his own experience, his own ugly wounds. There was darkness present, licking around the edges of consciousness like starved monster circling the fat, juicy cow in anticipation of attacking it and enjoying its meat.

Hate would be so, so very easy.

 _Temptingly so._

Green eyes opened, looking back at the man awaiting his judgement in front of him.

"It's not my place to hate you." He finally responded. "You've done the best you could against the odds you've been given. Even now, you are still doing your best - you want that Holy Grail for Sakura, don't you? - and sure, you've made mistakes even if you had best intentions for her." Harry gave him a bitter smile. "That's a lot more than her own parents could claim they have done for her."

Kariya looked as if someone had punched him into the gut. Archer was no better for some reason.

"But she is _dead!"_ Kariya croaked out.

"You've still done your best. You are still doing your best." Harry fought for his voice to remain steady when he was telling Kariya the words he had wished he could've heard when he brought Cedric's corpse back to Hogwarts.

"I let her suffer." Kariya stubbornly insisted, ducking his head as rebellious horse.

"You did." Harry's frank answer was like a whip to Kariya who flinched with surprise. "But it hurt you too, letting her suffer. Did you enjoy watching her suffer?"

" _ **NO!**_ The fuck, what do you take me for!" Kariya exploded. "A monster?" he clenched his fist, sorely wishing to clock Harry one.

"A human!" Harry snapped back, glaring. "A human with flaws! Do you really think you are that kind of a special snowflake that has to save everything and everyone because they can't be saved otherwise!? "

"No, but I pro - !" Kariya tried to interrupt him.

"Yes, yes, I've heard you, you _promised_. Well, newsflash for you, promises are like bones - sooner than later they are broken! You yourself had told me that a path of a magus is the path walked with one's hand in death's own! Or are you really so arrogant to think that nobody else would've hurt her latter in her life!"

" _Get out."_

Harry stilled at the casually spoken words. Surely they were not Kariya's -

"You've heard me. Get the _fuck_ out." Kariya's dual-colored eyes were clouded with hate, and it was the worst feeling Harry had ever experienced. Even Ron's betrayal hadn't hurt as much as Kariya's rejection did right then and there.

Archer's hands landed on Harry's shoulders, a reassuring warm weight, but all Harry could feel inside was an arctic cold.

Killing green, Cedric's lifeless eyes and an unexplainable loss settled back in his mind.

Giving the white haired man a jerky nod, Harry stood up and made a step.

And another one. Archer's arm wound around his waist, supporting him as if he were a fragile fawn trying to walk for the first time. Harry inhaled. Breathing hurt. His mind was foggy, clouded with the memories that clawed out of the cage they have been locked in, jeering at him anew. As if dreaming, there was another step, and then tenth and twentieth, until he found himself out on the riverside on the small bench.

Soon he found himself wrapped against the warmth of that wide chest, his nose inhaling the mixture of scents that was simply Archer.

"I am sorry." Archer's chest thrummed with the words spoken out, the man sounding truly remorseful for having instigated this mess.

Wordlessly, Harry snuggled closed, feeling the heartbeat and listening to river flowing by.

* * *

Berserker growled.

Berserker was mad.

His Master was stupid. Idiotic. A complete _imbecile._

No Harry meant no anymore cuddles for Berserker.

Honestly, that stupid _human!_

Red slit glowed with malice as the Mad Servant plotted Master's slow demise.

When Berserker would be done with him, those stupid little worms would be the _least_ of Kariya's worries.

Roaring with fury, he turned around and bisected the shadow that tried to sneak away from him.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Sawada Nana could be termed as a very accepting person, to the point many of people mockingly called her an airhead behind her back._

 _But she was a loving, devoted wife, an excellent housewife and a wholesomely doting mother._

 _As the latter, she was positively_ ecstatic _when Tsu-kun had dragged - correction, had been dragged by - his first friend into their humble home._

 _Emiya Shirou-kun, was it?_

 _He was such a lovely boy, so very polite and helpful - he repaired that washing machine and leaking faucet, despite being so very young! And most of all, he helped her Tsu-kun study!_

 _Shirou-kun was practically perfect, a model son every woman would've wished to have had, but there was one single point of contention._

… _Shirou-kun was better cook than she._

 _And everything had begun so innocently, with a dessert, named Treacle Tarts._

 _Ever since that fateful evening, Tsuna lived in fear of his mother smiling her polite, but razor-edged smile when Shirou-kun visited her, their exchanges of flattery and demurs ever so scarier because they usually exchanged them with extremely sharp knives in their hands, the blades flying over whatever unfortunate ingredients they had chosen for the dish they were currently working on._

 _(Until that day, Tsuna had a healthy fear of knives and cucumbers.)_

 _(Don't ask why.)_

 _(Just…_ don't.)


	65. Chapter 65

_**Disclaimer:**_ I disclaim the characters and song, but oops, I claim the story. I think that's about it.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Welp, another one bites the time it's back to Harry and what's happening. The Reunion is closing in, as the main actors are converging on one place, but not everything will go without any bumps and grinds on the way. Tired and sleepy now so I apologize for any mistakes. Self-beta-ed. Have at it

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, Tokiomi gets a shock and How to Tame Heroic Spirits, Second Edition.

* * *

 _All the - small things  
True care - truth brings  
I'll take - one lift  
Your ride - best trip  
Always - I know  
You'll be - at my show  
Watching, waiting, commiserating_

 _Say it ain't so, I will not go  
Turn the lights off, carry me home_

( _'All The Small Things'_ by blink182)

* * *

Harry found himself wandering through the streets, a ghost among people his walk purposeful yet aimless as he tried to get his head through the mess he was currently in. It was late evening, and he finally convinced Archer that yes, he was fine and no, he didn't need a bodyguard 24/7 (Archer doubted that, but one glare from Harry's eyes made him back away, because _one more word,_ and Harry would've exploded on him, instead.)

Thankfully Archer managed to secure a small job at the local _ramen-ya_ , however that still left Harry with an overabundance of free time. And considering he was a stranger in a strange land, with no official documents to boot, the things were a little bit... stressful. Just a little bit, though.

But if Harry learned anything in his years at Hogwarts and from his life at the Dursleys, it was the art of bluff. Meaning, act as if you have all the rights to be here, without being too... shall we say, _interesting,_ to other people, and chances are, most of the crowd won't even notice you aren't supposed to be here... wherever that here is.

Kariya's vehement rejection still hurt a little bit, but Harry had tried to dismiss it, bury its ugly thorns under the fraying blankets of his consciousness. Striding a little bit faster, Harry frowned at the anger gathering within his head when his thoughts cycled through the happenings of the last 24 hours.

This was _stupid._ The entire thing was stupid. What the fuck was _wrong_ with this world? Shaking his head, Harry's angry strides lengthened into a run. He muted the screechy voice in the back of his head - _you can't run, you are still too weak, whathtehellareyou_ _ **doing**_ – but all of it was lost in the heart pounding in his ears, his leg muscles stretching into familar exercise he got used in those Harry hunting days - only not, there weren't people hunting him, but his own feelings.

Was it worth it? Was it fucking _worth_ it, trusting again and again and then being hurt in return? He had thought he was over with it, but apparently not. Harry clenched his jaw, the world around him blurring as he tried to work off that heavy, burning feeling in his chest. He didn't know whether he was feeling angry, hurt or petty anymore.

But one thing was clear. He had been a fool once again, and he was furious with himself. What good ever came with him interfering in other people's business? The Stone, that basilisk, the Goblet - his life certainly seemed to be a comedy of failures, honestly. What was that, get Harry to help some poor bastard and then let's make is harder because of fucking course, there doesn't have to be an easier way of doing things. Not for Harry-fucking-Potter.

Harry tried to understand Kariya's – no, _Matou's_ viewpoint. He honestly tried - but for the bastard to not even _listen_ to him because he was just too much in his poor me, woe is me corner – Harry violently shook his head, trying to dislodge the ball of fury and helplessness clogging his throat.

 _'Cedric.'_ The Hufflepuff's face flashed in his mind, and Harry cringed at the memory. He knew, intimately, what the grief looked like - he had seen in when he witnessed the Diggory's over the corpse of their only son – and he knew where Matou was coming from, even if he didn't really understand it. But what he could understand was guilt and helplessness, and the overwhelming need to do something, even when everything was said and done.

The guilt clawed through his memories anew, a beast made of fire and sickness, cackling from the deepest recesses of his mind, but Harry ruthlessly pushed it down.

It wasn't his fault. Not really. And if he told that to himself enough times, told himself for long enough, maybe Harry would eventually began to believe it.

 _'But what if it was?'_ A whisper of thought snuck into his mind like a poisonous fog, causing him to cough with irritation.

 _It wasn't,_ Harry thought to himself, determined. It wasn't his own fucking fault that the world was so fucked up and he had to solve the mess piled upon him one way or another.

It wasn't his fucking fault that people refused to be rational and take logical steps to repair what had been broken or wrong. A shaky inhale delivered a burst of air in his starved lungs and Harry pressed on disregarding his screaming muscles of lack of air or his throbbing feet.

Determined to cling to that sole thought, he ran onward.

Half an hour later, he collapsed onto the bench in the part, only half-aware of his surroundings. His body was already telling him that his decision to run was a supremely bad one, and Harry tried to force his shakes down, feeling the crazed drumming of his heartbeat from his chest and there was a sour taste in his mouth as he gasped lungful after lungful of air in his oxygen-starved lungs.

Something tapped him on his right shoulder, and there was a shadow behind him, and Harry cursed his carelessness, but he could care less now when he had to catch a breath before anything else.

It tapped his shoulder again, and irritated, Harry swept the thing off, only for his fingers to collide with a bottle of - Harry looked on his right, surprised _\- water?_ His eyes trailed up, from strong, elegant fingers attached big palm to black sleeve and up and Harry had to crank his head into uncomfortable position to look at the face that knocked his breath out of him again.

"What the hell did they feed you to get bigger again!?" He couldn't help to blurt out.

The stranger - no, this was not stranger and yet it was - the young priest tilted his head, the golden cross on his chest twinkling in the daylight.

"I ought to ask that of you, considering you are still that cuddle-size of yours." Kirei replied back, a small smirk on his face at seeing Harry's flabbergasted face.

" _C-Cuddle size!"_ Harry couldn't help but splutter, and he was half of mind to throw the bottle at Kirei's head. "Oi, that was uncalled for! I am _not_ cuddle-sized!" He huffed, quickly unscrewing the bottle and drinking the divine liquid stored within. He felt his heartbeat starting to calm, and he was happy to see a familiar face around there, because that meant at least one thing had gone right in all that mess -

"I beg to differ." Kirei drawled, sending his heathen smirk at him, causing Harry's happiness to damp and ire to flare higher.

Harry glared at him. "You can beg all you want, but the fact is I am _not_ cuddle-sized." He may, or may have not closed the bottle with more force than necessary.

"Pray tell, what are you then?" The scent of myrrh, blood and olive wafted around Harry, subtle and teasing, just like it's' owner as Harry turned his head back, looking ahead.

" _Normal_ -sized! You could've been a basketball player, who the hell told you to be a giant, anyway!" Harry spat out, scowling, his mind still reeling from seeing Kirei changed so much in such a short of amount of time.

"Alas, but I am a humble priest." Kirei replied mild as milk as he sat beside him, when Harry sent a baleful glare at him. _Humble priest?_ Who was Kirei trying to kid, really?

There were few people at that time in the park, but still, Harry couldn't help but feel uncomfortable because of those few people's attention on Kirei's and consequently him. And Harry wouldn't admit - _not ever_ \- but he was also curious about Kirei's newly acquired … _beauty point_. There were few people who could catch Kirei off-guard as it were, and well, Kirei's freaky height-gain could wait for a time, really. At least until Harry found out who was strong - or stupid – or lucky – or the combination of all three - enough to land a hit on Kirei's face.

"Why do you have a…" Harry waved at Kirei's face helplessly. _"Raccoon_ eye?" And true to the fact, Kirei's face sported a very impressive shiner that was all the more impressive because it rested on a priest's face.

(Priests were not a violent sort, not the ones to dole out violence or ones to accept it… most of the times.)

"I had some sort of a disagreement with your father-in-law about our son." Short and concise as ever, Kirei abbreviated the Shiner Episode.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "About _Xanxus?_ Why?" He asked, honestly baffled about what could've gone wrong.

Kirei nodded. "He disagreed with the fact of you being a mother."

Harry's eyebrow twitched. "I am _not_ his mother." _Calm._ Calm and deep breaths in and out. "Besides, you already claimed this title, so your argument was invalid anyway."

"You gave him your blood." Kirei, fuck him very much, smiled. _Smiled._ Harry's blood chilled at the sight of that smile. Not that it was unnatural or anything - in fact, Kirei's face was even more handsome, but the implications of that smile weren't pretty. It meant that someone was going _down,_ and Harry had a strong suspicion that this time, that would be him who would be victim of Kirei's strange brand of logic. "Isn't it usually a mother who nurtures her children via her blood?" Harry's mental gears screeched at Kirei's question.

"Y-Yes, but – "Harry stammered, his eyes wide.

"Then by that logic, blood transfusion is the same, because it's giving blood to someone and with ritual, it essentially made it Xanxus' blood, so you are, like it or not, his mother."

"I don't have the necessary equipment for this!" Harry snapped back, peeved, before he blushed with mortification at what he had just said. Still, he stubbornly glared at the priest, as if that would help him to overcome the intense embarrassment of his latest blunder in his verbal spars with Kirei.

"Blood. DNA change. "Three words mortally slayed Harry's moral high ground, causing him to cover his red-hot face and emit a helpless whimper.

"Bloody _magic."_

"And," Kirei relentlessly continued, "Father Kotomine wished me to invite you to get to know his...Daughter-in-law." Stunned, Harry peeked from his fingers hiding his face.

This was almost too audacious to be believed. Harry was speechless. "Didn't you tell him that I was a man?" He finally croaked out, his eyes wide.

"Of course." Kirei nodded, shameless as one could be.

"And he _still_ issued an invite?" Harry asked in complete disbelief at that turn of events.

"Yes, why wouldn't he?" Kirei countered back, faux-confused. "You _are_ a mother of his grandson, so it's only proper."

Numbly, Harry hid his mortification-flushed face behind his palms once again.

"I repeat - _bloody_ _magic_ _."_

(He didn't see Kirei's lips curling into a smirk full of anticipation at furthering the already existing chaos.)

But there was another thing nagging at him, causing him to straighten his spine and look at Kirei again.

"What do you _mean,_ my father-in law!?" He squawked out. And when, in all that's holy, did Kirei find a father-in-law so quickly, really?

Harry really wanted to strangle his friend to death right now.

Honestly, Kirei would be the _death_ of him someday.

* * *

"How did you find me?" Harry inquired as he followed Kirei toward his doom. And it would be a doom, what with Harry's inevitably meeting of his father-in-law - mentally, Harry gave himself a harsh shake. There was no reason to think like Kirei, they weren't even married and why was he going along this farce again?

"A question of numbers." Kirei's ambiguous answer caused Harry to scowl at the priest. Was it only him or had Kirei became even more of a troll that he already was?

"That's not an answer." He seethed back as he glared at Kirei who gave him a mild smile back, causing Harry's hair stand up with alarm.

"It is. Simply put, I have an Assassin with... shall we say, _special_ characteristics." Kirei furthered his answer, leaving Harry to solve that riddle all by his lonesome.

Harry blanched.

"Dear _god_. Please tell me you are _joking."_ He groaned, fighting the urge to face palm yet again. Who in their own insane mind drafted _Kirei_ of all people in that mind-fuckery of a Grail War?

Kirei shook his head. "I am not. It's just a simple question of numbers."

Numbly, Harry shook his head.

A simple question of numbers.

 _Right._

"Did you meet anyone else of our group?" He inquired, causing Kirei to glance at him again as they leisurely walked across the pavement.

"Not that I know of. " Kirei's voice was calm and for a moment, Harry wished that Kirei would've shown a little bit more empathy for their fellow friends. Well, friends in Harry's case - in Kirei's, they were more or less material to troll up and about.

Frowning, Harry shook his head. "I am here. You are here. So it would be safe to say that at least Kiritsugu and Soichiro landed somewhere around here. Still… I hope the kids are alright."

That was another concern of Harry's. Whatever that ritual had done, it threw him ten years ahead and separated them in the process. While Harry didn't really change, it seemed that Kirei, for some reason, grew out - for the lack of better description - and that was a bitch and a half, considering one step of Kirei's could count for one and a half of Harry's, causing Harry to hurry if he wanted to keep along with Kirei.

"I don't know. The bracelet is not working anymore so I can't say whether or not they survived the trip." Harry bristled at Kirei's answer, frank as it was.

"But if you found me via your cute little helper - or in your case, _helpers_ , you _do_ have some information about what's going on in this circus of craziness. " He arched an eyebrow at Kirei, who threw a small scowl at him.

 _Ha._ Harry still got it. The green-eyed wizard couldn't' help but feel smug. "So?"

"Hm. You are right." Kirei wasn't happy camper about divulging information it was plain as a day was bright. Harry beamed at him further. "Share the wealth?"

Shaking his head, Kirei capitulated. "Currently, there are at least four Servants summoned, as far as I know. Caster, Lancer, Archer and Berserker. Caster is still an unknown, as his Master hadn't come to register him yet, Lancer belongs to Kayneth El-Melloi, Archer had been summoned by Tokiomi Tohsaka and Berserker…Matou Kariya."

Harry nodded, thoughtful. "So the ones still unaccounted for are Rider and Saber." He muttered to himself. "And I pity Dia for having that piss-poor bastard of a prick for his Master." He grimaced at the thought of the lively, kind Servant under El-Melloi's heel.

Kirei halted. _"Dia?"_ His voice was casual, but there was something dangerous lurking beneath.

"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the Irish hero." Harry's response was absentminded. "I've met him when I tried to summon Archer. A helpful chap, really."

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts.

"You tried to summon _Gilgamesh?"_ Now it was Kirei's turn to be incredulous. "What were you even _thinking?"_

Harry glared. "You know, you are the second person to question my summoning decisions."

"Your summoning decisions leave much to be questioned about!" Kirei shot back. "And what do you _mean_ I was the second person to question your summoning decisions?"

They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, glaring at each other.

"For your _information,_ I tried to summon Archer. You know, Kiritsugu's _son?"_ Harry growled back, causing Kirei's eyebrows to lift with surprise.

" _That_ dandy? Why ever for?"

"I couldn't rely on Kari - _Matou_ to save me with his Berserker forever." The muscle in Harry's jaw jumped when he was reminded of the unpleasant happenings some time ago.

Kirei was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning downtrodden form of his friend before deciding to let the sleeping dogs lie… for now.

"Show me your hand."

"Huh?" Harry blinked at the demand, but still complied.

And lo and behold, there it was. That strange sign that vanished when Kirei had exorcised the shard out of Harry.

"Harry. Are you _sure_ you summoned an Archer?"

Blinking, Harry nodded. "Yes, why?" There had to be something wrong for Kirei to outright frown.

No, it _was_ wrong. And Harry knew exactly what was wrong.

"In Grail War, there was never a case when any one class could be summoned twice."

Now completely exasperated at his strange luck, Harry looked down on the sign branded on his hand and then at Kirei again.

"Well, there is one now and I am out of fucks to give." He deadpanned.

Kirei arched his eyebrow.

"Well spoken, wife." His off-handed quip earned him reddened cheeks and angry green-eyed glare from his so-called spouse.

"Who is your wife _again?_ May I remind you that you took the vows of chastity and if I remember right, you are in completely wrong branch of church if you wanted to marry."

"A pity." Kirei's voice was drier than Atacama Desert. "Not that it stopped us from making a kid together. Therefore you are still a wife."

Harry wanted to shake the priest. Why was that bastard so insistent in using that godforsaken title, really? That complete and utter _troll_ – he flushed with mortification when he spotted the bystanders looking at their little exchange.

"Who's a wife, _you're_ a wife!"

* * *

Father Kotomine stared. One Tohsaka Tokiomi stared. They had a reason to stare - there, in front of them, standing beside Kirei, was a green-eyes spitfire of a teen - young man, really, barely out of teenage hood who glared at Kirei like he wanted to murder him, while Kirei was pleased as a cat that got canary and a big bowl of cream to polish along.

"Father Kotomine, Tohsaka-sensei. May I introduce you my wife, one Harry James Potter-Kotomine." Kirei grunted as he took Harry's elbow into his side, the young man turning the attention to the two flabbergasted men in front of him.

"Pleased to meet you, but I _do_ wish it could've been under better circumstances." Harry drawled, giving Kirei one last scathing glare for good measure before he nodded at the duo sitting in front of him. It looked like they had come just in time for afternoon tea, judging by a tea set and a bowl half-filled with biscuits on the table between the aged priest and his contemporary.

Harry's anger masked his fear and insecurity, overlapping both of them to the point of eclipsing them.

"Ah? Harry, is that you?" Tokiomi jumped up, his aquamarine eyes wide with shock. He still wore that garish suit, Harry noted to himself dryly. Well, maybe there was something in magic that made all the people Harry knew somewhat addle-brained in some sense.

"The one and the same. I see married life treated you well, Tohsaka-san." Harry nodded, only for Tokiomi to reach forward and grab his hand in an enthusiastic handshake.

"Well, I'll be damned! I thought little Kirei was joking, but really, I ought to know he doesn't have any funny bone in his whole body." Tokiomi laughed. "And do call me Tokiomi, please."

' _No. Instead, he has many troll bones hidden within.'_ Harry thought to himself sourly as he gave Tohsaka - now Tokiomi - an awkward smile.

"You know him?" Father Kotomine inquired, causing Harry to turn his attention to him. Father Kotomine was a tall, broad-shouldered man with shoulder-length silver hair and somehow, Harry was reminded of a good-natured Snape - if the man had silver hair, smaller nose and a complete overturn of his usually dour personality.

" _Know_ of him? Your son had _invited_ that little rascal as his plus one to my wedding to my darling Aoi-chan!" Tokiomi fairly beamed at him, and was it just Harry's imagination or was there a flowery background glittering behind the man?

"Truly?" The man turned to Harry, a warm smile spreading over his aged face. "What a… _coincidence._ I welcome you to our humble abode, young man, and thank you for taking care of my son." The man was clad in in the same kind of clothes as Kirei, the only difference being him wearing a violet colored stole around his shoulders. The stole also had two white crosses embroidered into the fabric, on the each end one cross. Despite of Father Kotomine's kind appearance, Harry got a feeling the man wasn't one to be provoked, an old lion with his claws still diligently sharpened day in and day out.

"You honor me, Father Kotomine. " Harry ducked his head shortly, but still kept his eyes on the man, a pleasant half-smile never leaving his lips. "I assure you I was completely taken aback when I found out that I had a father-in-law."

Oh, he didn't really go there, did he? And just when Harry promised himself he would straighten out that nonsense Kirei had done via his trollish ways. But what was spoken couldn't be taken back, so he just had to grin and bear with it until the bitter end.

"Not as much as us." Tokiomi interrupted their stare-off. "He told us that your son was a pyromaniac and that he adopted him with you via healing." And of course, if that wasn't prodding for more information, Harry didn't know what it could be.

"Oh? And he probably insinuated that I was his adopted mother?" Harry's smile was all sugar and spice and everything nice. It was enough to give a person looking at him cavities.

"He mentioned that, yes. Risei - father Kotomine - thought he was joking and, well - " Tokiomi was torn between the amusement and remembered horror.

"Gifted him with a lovely shiner on his face." Harry dryly ended it for him. "My only regret is that you were self-restrained enough that you didn't give him another one. As you know, all good things must come in pairs."

There was an awkward silence between the four of them, the two elder men obviously not knowing what to do with Harry's merciless response. The silencer was shattered with uproarious laughter from the nearby settee, causing all four of them to whip their heads toward the source of the mysterious sound.

Harry's breath stuck in his throat. There, on that humble settee sat a man who could only be described as divine.

Sitting? No, it was more of a sprawl, but that didn't take away the sense of danger this man was exuding to an overwhelming degree. He was clad in golden armor with black accents, which ought to, on any other person, look ostentatious, but on him, it looked like an accessory, enhanced by that man's presence into something otherworldly. Flawless pale skin and mess of golden hair crowning his head were a base for face that people would say it was absolutely striking, almost too perfect for a man, and there where those red eyes.

That color of red had no name. Harry could compare it with blood, with rubies or garnets or red diamonds, but it still wouldn't describe the essence of it - it was all that and more yet nothing likes it at the same time. In his earlobes, he wore hanging earrings in the shape of locket - the accessory which ought to make him look feminine, but instead, it enhanced the unnatural half-feral and half-divine beauty of his face. From his lips, intermixed with his armor, hung the half-skirt in burgundy color.

The man's face was smiling, those unique eyes glistening with mirth as he laughed - an arrogant laughter, fit for emperors.

" _Ahahaha!_ Couldn't have said it better myself, mongrel!" The man spoke out, tones condescending and arrogant, yet nobody could fault him for it.

The man clapped his appreciation, those glimmering eyes zeroing on Harry's own, and Harry didn0t doubt that this man had been - _was_ \- a King.

"Why, thank you, your Majesty. I am glad to have entertained you so." Harry snarked back while he had done a half-bow as if he were a comedian receiving applause.

Both Father Kotomine and Tokiomi were petrified, not daring to move under those dangerous red eyes.

Inside, he broke in hives. This was a dangerous game he was playing right now - this was not someone to needlessly anger.

"Ho, you have guts. So you are Kirei's infamous little wife?" The King spoke out, lips lazily curling into amused smirk.

Harry glared. "If anybody ought to be wife in that partnership, it should be _him."_ He bit out, glaring at the king. "If I recall correctly, Xanxus called him _mommy_ , thus we can extrapolate that Kirei is a wife by default."

Judging by Kirei's sour face he _(not so) accidentally_ forgot to mention that little tidbit to his elders. The King laughed again, clearly entertained by Harry's pet peeve.

"Indeed, mongrel, he should." He spoke, his voice sliding like a silk against Harry's senses.

Harry strained to keep a polite smile. It was his life at the stake here, but being called a mongrel rankled at his nerves. Belatedly, he felt Kirei squeezing his shoulder, as if warning him to keep civil tongue around that dangerously unpredictably entity lounging on a settee, but Harry willfully disregarded him.

"Thank you!" Harry fairly beamed at him, causing the King's eyes to widen by a millimeter - not that anyone noticed that. "If I may, could I know what can I address you as?" The King paused, as if in disbelief anyone could be so brazen as to ask him that particular question.

" _Harry!"_ Kirei hissed at him, but Harry was undeterred in his pursuit.

"You… are pretty bold and disrespectful for a mongrel. Be glad you entertained me; otherwise I would have killed you in the most painful manner available. " The King finally spoke again, his eyes dark with killing intent, but Harry was undeterred.

Harry frowned. "It is either calling you by something you yourself wish to be called by or pissing you off by calling you something you don't want to be called by and risking my demise. Personally, I am all for option A."

 _Social suicide._ This was social suicide in its truest form - the other three bystanders thought to themselves while they listened to the banter between the Heroic Spirit and reckless green-eyed mortal.

Golden eyebrows rose up further at Harry's shameless proclamation. "You would dare to command a _King,_ mongrel?" The King's voice dropped, reflecting that he wasn't amused with suggestion.

"Please don't disabuse me of my delusion we are the sole ones sane in this room." Harry groaned, giving the King a pleading stare which seemed to amuse the said King, if only slightly.

"Sanity is overrated." The King shot back.

"True. And underused." Harry returned the volley. "You know and I know my suggestion was perfectly sane. And we both profit. I get out of this with my life intact and you get addressed like you want to be."

"Or I could kill you right here and now." The King tilted his head, eyes narrowing with threat. Harry gave him a deadpan stare.

"And deprive yourself of my sparkly wit only to drown yourself in endless boredom again?" Harry tilted his head.

"I hate sparkles." Elegant chin pushed forward, the corners of those perfect lips twitching in a smirk before straightening themselves out once again.

"Good. I hate them too. This shit is notoriously hard to get out of the clothes, never mind hair and body." Harry shuddered when he remembered one particularly miserable episode with the mites from hell called sparkles.

Silence reigned between the two.

And then, they simultaneously smiled at each other. It was more of a smirk, especially on the King's side, but it signified some kind of a temporary truce.

"Call me…" The golden-clad king hesitated "Gil."

Harry nodded, smiling. "Of course. And if you could, please call me Harry. By the way, any preferences on what you want for dinner?"

The King - Gil now - rose from the settee he had been lounging on. "I don't need to consume food mongrel." Harry just gave him a baleful glare, causing him to cough with amusement at the green-eyed wizard's peeved expression.

"Let's just say it's the part of me entertaining you, shall we?" Harry scowled at him, causing Gil to chuckle at his expression.

"Well, I could do with something _not_ boring for once." Gil snorted. "Come, I will show you the kitchen. But I _do_ expect a good entertainment. "

"Of course." Harry gave Gil a small nod when he dislodged Kirei's shock-slackened hand from his shoulder in anticipation to following the Heroic Spirit out of the room.

With that, both Gil and Harry headed for the kitchen, leaving the speechless trio to their own devices.

Both father Kotomine and Tokiomi turned to Kirei, half a heartbeat away from heart attack.

"Kirei, I am sorry to say, but your wife… has balls." Father Kotomine finally spoke out, giving a nod of respect to his still shell-shocked adopted son.

"I-Indeed." Tokiomi managed to stutter before slumping into blessed unconsciousness.

"That… was never called in question." Kirei deadpanned.

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Kiritsugu was ready to strangle that little shit._

 _Why, oh why did Xanxus have to adopt yet another one?_

 _Kiritsugu glared at puppy pile snoozing on the bed, completely unaware of Kiritsugu's trouble at the moment._


	66. Chapter 66

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the song or characters; I am just feeling evil enough to trouble them with new challenges.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Real life is a mess right now. Hopefully I will keep the established updating schedule for this story, but if I can't, I will notify you ahead of time, though I hope it will not come to it. I don't have the outline of the story yet, however I am working on piecing it together, but as I haven't seen _Fate/Zero_ , I am wrestling with the sequence of the happenings and how to make them work, considering this is a crossover. But well, all in a good time…

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU-verse**_ on multiple scales. Things are slowly coming together, Harry is wondering about retaining his sanity, everyone else not so much, and Saber is faced with cruel reality of modern courting. She switches to an olden language in that instances.

* * *

 _How many times will the clock go around  
How many times can my hands hit the ground  
How many coffins before there's a crown  
How far will I fall 'til the alarm sounds  
How come you love me when I am ugly  
Guess I can only hope_

 _Give me a second go  
Don't let me go alone  
You saw me at the worst  
You caught me falling first  
All I wanted to know  
Give me a second go_

 _('Second Go' by Lights)_

* * *

Kiritsugu was ready to strangle that little shit.

 _Why_ , oh _why,_ did Xanxus have to adopt yet _another_ one?

Kiritsugu glared at puppy pile snoozing on the bed, completely unaware of Kiritsugu's trouble at the moment. It didn't help that Saber was utterly amused at his plight and firmly in the little brats' corner. It didn't exactly take a seer to predict if - or rather _when_ \- Xanxus would get to Harry, there would be another addition to their little pile of shits - ahem, _kids_ – and the only real question was who would Xanxus choose to be a daddy for that Matou girl out of the three of them.

(Kiritsugu strongly suspected that this time, the one to be crowned with that dubious honor would be Kuzuki, which would neatly round out the kid pile between them. Xanxus for Kirei, Iri was Kiritsugu's and Matou girl - Kiritsugu didn't deign to remember her name - would, going by that logic, be shifted onto the gray-eyed assassin. Not that Kirei minded. Anyone was better than that shitty priest which Kiritsugu began to suspect of being a secret teacher of his trollish ways to his little red-eyed adopted hell-spawn.)

His deed on checking upon the puppy pile done for this evening, Kiritsugu silently slid the door shut before going to balcony to smoke one much-deserved cigarette.

"Smoking is bad for you." Saber's voice came behind him, causing Kiritsugu's shoulders to twitch, but that was the only sign of surprise from his side as he paused in getting the cigarette lit.

"Thanks for caring." Kiritsugu deadpanned back before he finally lit the cancer stick, not heeding Saber's scowl at him one whit. He made a face at the smoke - they didn't have his favorite brand, so he had to do with another, much smellier one - before he placed the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled the smoke as he looked on the light show beneath his feet. It wasn't much, due to the late hour, but there were still cars driving to and fro, mechanic fireflies losing themselves in the night, leaving - or bringing with them white and red lights, that could, if Kiritsugu closed his eyes a bit, stretch themselves into streaks of bright colors painted on the gray-black pavement below the balcony.

He heard her exasperated sigh, but he stubbornly held onto his little ill-gotten habit. It was practically the only one thing that kept him sane those days when he gathered intel and prepared himself for all the eventualities in the oncoming War. Not for the last time he cursed himself for agreeing to be involved in that kind of shit, but what was done was done, and there was no way back.

"Tomorrow we are going to register at the church, are we not?" Saber queried, her voice factual, as she confirmed the plan they hashed out earlier that evening.

Kiritsugu gave a short nod of assent. "Yes. There's really no need to delay." He frowned, disliking the fact he was operating on too few confirmed information for his liking. Matou mansion had been burned to ground, and Kiritsugu selfishly hoped that they won't have to deal with them and their Berserker. Saber had found out that Archibald El-Melloi summoned a Lancer, and some insane whacko had an equally unhinged Caster under their thumb while Rider was an unknown, along with his Master, and what information Einzberns had provided (when they were satisfied with Kiritsugu's proof of his identity) hinted that Tohsaka Summoned a strong Archer. Assassin was probably on the church's side of things, which complicated things a little bit more than Kiritsugu would've liked them to be.

"Which one do you think will be the hardest to deal with?" Saber was honestly curious.

"Depends." Kiritsugu shook his head. "Stats-wise, if Berserker were still in the game, he would be the one to watch out the most, for the sole reason of his defense being stupidly high, even if in exchange, he was difficult to control and consumed far too much _prana_ to be truly effective on battlefield. El-Melloi is way too predictable and Lancers have historically abysmal luck stats." Exhaling, he looked at the glowing end of the cigarette before dragging the smoke into his lungs again.

"What about Archer?" Green eyes; unlike Harry's own ones, looked into Kiritsugu's own, dark and serious.

"Pain in the ass, if utilized correctly. But not so much as an Assassin." Kiritsugu had to hold back a shiver of unease when he thought of that possibility. Assassin class may not have been the strongest or most glorious one, but it was the most adaptable one if one wanted to off their opponent without any fanfare or losses on their side. Kiritsugu still regretted that he hadn't managed to convince that Jubstacheit bastard into allowing him to switch to Assassin when they still had a chance. But contract, enforced with Geas effectively nullified this option for Kiritsugu, much to his annoyance.

"What about Rider and Caster?"

Kiritsugu snorted. "You tell me." He challenged Saber, who blinked at him, clearly not expecting her question to be thrown back at her.

"Caster is dangerous. And without honor." Saber wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Kiritsugu had to hold back as to prevent him from sarcastically cooing at her holier-than-thou knightly attitude.

Even if she was a warrior, in some ways she was too innocent in the ways of the world.

"And loves ambushes." He quipped, causing Saber to blink at him, before she nodded. "Tricky as a fox, indeed." An unhappy tilt of her mouth lifted Kiritsugu's mood a bit. "A rabid fox, at that."

And rabid animals were notoriously hard to corner because they were all the more unpredictable than their sane counterparts. Just _wonderful._

"And Rider?" Kiritsugu scratched his chin, absentmindedly making a note to shave sometime soon.

Saber grimaced. "Depends on who's been summoned. I loathe dealing with cavalry when being on foot."

"You and me both." Kiritsugu agreed. Even if Saber was said to be the strongest class out of the six, it didn't mean their victory was automatically assured. It only raised their probability of winning, but everything else depended on other Masters and Servants … and how they utilized their advantages and overcame any disadvantages they had to deal with on the way.

"Let's hope we'll find out more information tomorrow, then." Saber concluded, shaking her head.

They were a strange pair standing on the balcony, hidden within the half-darkness - Kiritsugu clad in his suit, sans his long coat, scruffy and sullen with the butt of the cigarette handing off of the edge of his mouth, and Saber - a tiny, all too serious young Anglo-Saxon woman clad in royal blue and steel gray, her yellow hair bound in a modest bun on the back of her head.

Yet both of them bound by seal imprinted on Kiritsugu's hand, it's lines boldly drawn in the shape of inverted stylized cross of stark red color, an oath of blood and life hanging between the two of them like eclipsed moon - invisible but there.

* * *

Much to Tohsaka Tokiomi's dismay, Harry and Gilgamesh got along like house on fire. While he still had to scrape and bend along with begging and pleading the Heroic Spirit to heed his wishes, Harry was the one who had fearlessly gone ahead with poking and prodding the said Heroic Spirit and generally behaving like disrespectful little dog. To further Tokiomi's confusion and consternation, Gilgamesh bore with Harry's antics without any complaints, as if the green eyed teen's antics were more of an amusement than a bother.

Tokiomi had tried to ask Kirei as to why was that, but his so-not-cute pupil just shrugged and said that it was _Harry_ \- like that answered any of a million of question that buzzed through Tokiomi's mind. Father Kotomine hadn't fared anything better, but he bore confusion borne out of Kirei's not-explaining ways gracefully, even going so far as to include Harry in their more mundane talks under pretense of getting to know his daughter - ahem, son-in-law.

(Neither Harry nor Father Kotomine bothered to correct Kirei about that little tidbit, though Harry still fiercely opposed Kirei calling him a wife.)

All was well… until that one evening when apocalypse came knocking down on the church's doors.

And the name of the harbinger of apocalypse was the long lost and not mourned one of a monster the Magi everywhere feared, despised and resented in equal measures.

It began with a young girl, with green eyes and blonde hair bound in a ponytail, clad in sleek black suit, like that of a bodyguard.

It continued with a scruffy young man in a suit with a coat, with messy black hair and fathomless blank black eyes.

And it exploded via certain gold-clad Heroic Spirit that was searching for entertainment to stave off his infinite boredom.

* * *

Kiritsugu wasn't fond of churches. Or temples, for that instance. He never believed in any higher power in his live - if there were any fixed instances, he would acknowledge life and death, and the impermanent cycle of both of them dancing through time, but that was it.

Life was hard, and death was inevitable. That was the sore fact in his existence as an assassin.

And stepping into church, after losing Harry yet again, only soured the experience even more so than usual.

The church was a fairly simple building, sitting on the top of the hill, quietly austere in the light of departing day. Light gray cement outside intermixed with deeper dove gray stone of tall windows, a simplicity in its lines which would be charming any other time, but now, it gave of more of a solemn, if not foreboding mood, what with the light of the day mutely dying by the moment.

Kiritsugu pushed the door to enter, revealing an inside that was surprisingly invitingly looking, despite the stark white walls and ceilings, only accentuated with the mellow brown of the supporting beams at the main and side altar, the floor of the Holiest draped in slightly worn-out red carpet, with the aisles upon aisles of dark brown benches below. There were surprisingly few insignias that would denote this was a holy place of a Christian faith - there was dark red and gold banner on the left, unobtrusive despite of its loud colors, but that was it.

' _Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.'_

Those words flashed through his mind, but Kiritsugu dismissed them like one would an annoying fly buzzing around their head. Saber stepped past him, her steps echoing slightly as she headed to the altar, where she knelt down in prayer, a strange, dark-shaped intruder in the place of light.

Kiritsugu moved onward slowly, as if not knowing what to do with himself, but his attention remained steadfast, he himself prepared to draw his gun at any moment if danger chose to leap out of those seemingly innocent shadows lurking within the bits and corners of the church. One could never be too careful, really, especially not in holy places.

"So you are the mongrel lagging behind."

An arrogant voice spoke out at the right side ahead of him, causing Kiritsugu to zero onto the owner of it. He ignored Saber stiffening at the altar, obviously as thrown off her course as he, Kiritsugu was, his eyes drawn to the heroic Spirit lazily sprawled on the chair beside the altar, drinking wine from the golden goblet Kiritsugu was fairly sure it was intended for more holy uses than being debased to a chalice of moment to this imposing man in front of them.

The man – for despite his androgynous, almost too perfect features, he was obviously a man, judging by his golden armor and devilishly tilted red eyes, his golden mane of hair nor losing its luster if compared to the sheen of his armor or blocky earrings hanging off his earlobes. The red half-skirt hanging off his hips to his ankles with some black accents inlaid into the golden armor only enhanced the striking features this strange fellow painted to any onlooker in the church.

"Who the fuck are you?" Saber apparently gained the gift of her tongue back, but Kiritsugu saw her right hand twitching for her trusty sword. But oh my, _cursing?_ He truly didn't expect that from her. Oh well, maybe he was rubbing off on her.

(He felt strangely proud of that accomplishment, as tiny as it may have been.)

Piercing red eyes swiveled to her, who was rising from her kneeling position.

"Oh? What do we have here? A little lioness barking like a dog?" Judging by Saber's tense shoulders, she didn't like being referred as a dog. "Maybe, if you leave that mongrel, I could find a place for you by my side, if only to entertain me."

"I am no dog!" Saber flared, her sharp eyes leaving an echo in the mostly empty building. "Watch how you talk, knave!"

Previously amused red eyes darkened with annoyance. "You are in the presence of a King, mongrel. You are lucky I find you amusing - else I would've skewered you on the spot!" The gold-clad man spat as he raised himself from the seat he was lounging on.

"If you really are, then you ought to compose yourself like a king!" Saber shot back, her green eyes ablaze with her ire. "But the first thing you say is not the gracious welcome, but insults to my person! If that's the grace of a King, then standards surely have fallen!"

There was a tense silence after Saber's outburst, with Kiritsugu feeling a cold drop of sweat sliding down his back. This - _whatever it was_ \- this Golden King - for he surely was a King, despite his brash manner - apparently found and poked at Saber's sole sore spot.

 _"Saber!_ Stand down!" he snapped at her, glaring into her eyes for good measure. Surely, he would need a packet or two of cigarettes to stave off a headache Saber managed to procure in those scant few moments. For all of Saber's composed behavior, this was the first time he had seen as unhinged, and it truly shocked the hell out of him. While it was good that Saber was showing some human feelings, her succumbing to anger could very well end their chances in battle a lot more prematurely Kiritsugu could've wished for otherwise.

"Listen to your master of a mongrel, little lioness. Even if you are stronger, he at least has wits to not outright insult those who are better than him." That arrogant golden jerk had the gall to _sneer_ at them. And Kiritsugu couldn't help but inwardly bristle at the condescending tone of the Servant.

But of course, Saber wasn't done yet.

"I too am a King!" Kiritsugu fought not to face palm at Saber's proclamation. What was that, a pissing contest whose dick was bigger?

"Saber! Tone. It. _Down!"_ He hissed at her, truly tempted to use one of the Seals. Why, oh why had he allowed those sanctimonious jerks of the Einzberns to choose _Saber_ out of all classes - and not only that, they just had to saddle him with a veritable human mule to _boot_ , never mind how strong she was!

" _You?_ A _king?_ Surely you jest, little lioness? If anything, you could've been crowned as a King of cross-dressers, if not of being crass, but that's the extent of your claim." The golden asshole sneered at her, and for all Kiritsugu was pissed off at his manners, he couldn't help but feel angry at his treatment of Saber.

Judging from Saber's tense posture, she was on the verge of entering her battle form and cleaving the glitzy bastard in half, secret of her identity be damned.

" _Gil!_ Quit being a bastard and for god's sake, stop antagonizing them! I know you are bored, but _seriously?!"_ An irate voice echoed from the back of the church, causing Kiritsugu's back to stiffen with surprise before he whirled around in search of that familiar voice.

The steps, muffled as they were, hurried onward, bringing with them the person that dared to scolded the Heroic Spirit.

And lo and behold, there he was. Messy hair, clad in too big red sweater Kiritsugu could've sworn he had seen somewhere before and that irritated kitten-eyed glare from those all too green eyes.

Harry stomped ahead, not giving Kiritsugu even a glance and for a moment, Kiritsugu felt a pang of hurt in his chest at Harry's behavior.

The second feeling was protectiveness. Without so much of a warning, his arm shot out and grabbed Harry by the scruff of that damnable red sweater, causing him to yelp with surprise as he was dragged into Kiritsugu's hold.

" _Hey!_ What are you do… _ing."_ Harry's angry eyes melted into confused ones, before realization seemed to dawn in them.

"Hello again, kitten. Do you have some kind of fetish for us meeting in churches?" Kiritsugu smirked back at him, thoroughly enjoying lording his now vastly improved height over the bundle of skin, bones and warmth cradled against him.

Harry's jaw dropped at Kiritsugu. The man just didn't flirt with him right now - or did he?

Was there something floating in the Fuyuki's very air, robbing people of their common sense or something? And _why,_ for all that was holy, Harry seemed to be the only one immune to it?

" _Urk."_ The undignified sound he let out was followed by a furious blush stealing over his face.

A moment later, there was a golden glow illuminating the innings of the church, and if Kiritsugu wasn't mistaken, he was soon to be a target by multiple weapons, all aimed at him by one glaring golden prick of a king.

"Harry. You _know_ that mongrel?" The so-called Gil's voice was deathly calm.

"Emiya Kiritsugu. Magus Killer, and… apparently the Master of that tomboy called Saber." A much loathed voice came from across the golden spirit's position, and Kiritsugu glared at his unspoken archenemy.

"Kotomine Kirei _. Not_ a pleasure to meet you." He acknowledged the bastardy priest.

Kirei gave him a minute nod of head, with an equally minute smirk hovering at the edge of his lips. "Oh, I wouldn't say so. But I would very much appreciate if you would let go of my wife."

"I am not your fucking _wife,_ you moron!" Harry exploded in Kiritsugu's embrace, forcibly dislodging the man's arms off of his waist as he stomped to the moron in question, firmly poking him into the middle of chest, right above the cross. "We already had that discussion, but – firstly, I am of a wrong gender, secondly, you are a priest and thirdly, you are being a complete and utter _troll_ and I am half of the mind to strike out on my own, that shitty war notwithstanding!"

Harry was furious. And cute. And Kiritsugu wanted to snatch him far, far away right this very moment.

"Are thou an adulterer?" Saber's shocked voice cut into the electrified air between the four of them, causing Harry to jerk around to face his unexpected accuser. Leaf green eyes looked into aggrieved emerald green ones before Harry allowed himself to face palm at the absurdity of the situation.

"I am _not_ married. For fuck's sake, I haven't even _dated yet!"_ He hissed, his voice muffled, and the tips of his ears were dark red with mortification.

"That can be remedied." Both Kirei and Kiritsugu replied in stereo, before they glared at each other, much to Saber's fascination.

The space became even brighter with many concentric golden circles appearing around all of the troublesome people (namely Kirei, Kiritsugu and Saber), while Harry suddenly found himself sitting on Gil's knee, the Golden King's arm securely wrapped around his waist.

"I will _not_ have _my_ little brother being fought over like a scrap of meat among the half-starved rabid hyenas."

Gil's threatening smile was a vision of terrifying beauty.

* * *

 _ **/Scribbles/**_

 _Tohsaka Rin was a precocious girl._

 _Stubborn, willful, inquisitive and with the crush of size of Jupiter on Xanxus._

 _The black-haired and red-eyed boy was hard, brash and crass, but he had something within him that attracted her to him like moth to fire._

 _But thing was, Xanxus didn't give her a whit of an attention, despite knowing that she came from a prestigious lineage. When she told him that she was an heiress, he only rolled his eyes. When she bragged about wealth of her family, he scoffed at her claims._

 _And when she, in fit of anger, shot him with a_ Gandr _\- albeit a very weak one – the next morning she woke herself in a bed, completely covered with toads, all of them blinking at her with their bulged out eyes, one scant few seconds away from stealing her first kiss._

So. Many. **Toads.**

 _Rin screamed._


	67. Chapter 67

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own that. Nope. Not me. Story, which I do. Characters, I do not.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Still swingin'. It goes slower than I would've liked it to go, but we are closing in on the KHR part of the story. One more for Fon, how he dealt with Harry's vanishing trick and his woes with tiny, precocious skylark in human shape that is all too keen on biting people to death. Both F/Z and KHR timelines will merge at one point, as hinted in through this chapter. Also, there is a guest appearance of a certain character from _Ballroom e Youkoso_ \- if you are interested in Standard and Latin dances within competitive sphere, it's a good and entertaining manga to read, and if you don't want to read it, there's still anime under the same name.

 _ **Warnings:**_ _**AU**_ on multiple scales, merging timelines, Fon got a headache named Kyoya and Archer Is Not Ready. Not beta-read.

 _ **Dictionary:**_ _Ah-Kyo_ \- Chinese prefix _Ah -_ or _A -_ ( _A-Kyo_ ) is a (mostly affectionate) diminutive if used together with name of a person in question. In English, you could say it's similar to Johnny or Jenny - so in short, you are calling person 'little John' or 'little Jean'. So there Fon is calling Kyoya 'little Kyo'. I am using _Ah_ \- because it's easier to read than just _A,_ but in Chinese novels translated in English, you can find used both Ah or A, depending on translator's preferences. Another such diminutive with similar connotations is _Xiao_ \- also meaning little, literally. ( _Xiao Kyo_ ). I am not Chinese speaker or writer, so if I interpreted those wrong, then I ask for corrections.

* * *

 _Lost in the darkness, hoping for a sign  
Instead there is only silence  
Can't you hear my screams?  
Never stop hoping  
Need to know where you are  
But one thing is for sure  
You're always in my heart_

 _I'll find you somewhere  
I'll keep on trying until my dying day  
I just need to know whatever has happened  
The truth will free my soul_

 _('Somewhere' by Within Temptation)_

* * *

Cold. Cold, detached and unapproachable.

Ever since That Day, the Storm Arcobaleno could be described by those three words. It was strange dichotomy, seeing a three year old baby being almost completely listless in the hustle and bustle of his surroundings, and if it weren't for the almost abnormal intelligence in those flat dark eyes, one could've thought that there was something wrong with the red-clad bundle of joy.

At first, there was denial. That and locking himself down in his room, not allowing anyone else in, aside Verde and Skull. Not for the lack of trying from Lal's and her little toy soldier's side. The Sky Arcobaleno – Fon didn't deign to call her by her name - tried, however half-hearted her efforts were, and Reborn, that bastard, didn't even try. Well, even if he did, both Fon and Reborn knew that there would have been a destruction on a massive scale, if not death, and even if Reborn was ( _still_ ) the Greatest Hitman, he knew when not to toe the invisible line Fon had drawn in the proverbial sand, so to speak. Viper kept their distance, but they still monitored Fon, because they were information-gathering freak like that.

* * *

Then, anger came. It was not pretty. In fact, one could say it was horrifying. And it the triads were just that damn unlucky to poke at Fon's temper - which was already extremely unstable at that point - a little too hard and too often. Despite Fon being newly-crowned - or better, cursed - Storm Arcobaleno, some people didn't take him seriously, especially because he was forced in his baby form. The same imbeciles also thought that because there was a baby Storm, they would have easier time to bend Fon to their demands, or even press him into servitude.

Suffice to say, that day rained blood in rivers. Fon didn't care to make it neat, painless or even clean. Contrarily to that, he made it sure that there was blood, gore and suffering - and if there were any fools that even entertained the thought of having Fon as their private attack dog, those thoughts were quickly snuffed out, replaced by consensus that Fon would be kept as a neutral party for them, mostly because Fon himself declined being their leader.

(The one who stopped him was a small wailing bundle without ears. Fon named the said wailing bundle - it was a girl - I-pin.)

* * *

Next came bargaining. The what-ifs. What if Fon had been faster? What if he hadn't befriended Harry? What if he had killed that _hundan_ of a Checkerface? What if he had stolen him away, going away from that insane, cruel and meaningless world filled with envy, anger and hurt.

What if Fon were better, what if he had declined working for Triads, what if he were an honest man, _what if –_

Praying late in the night, standing under the ice cold waterfall until he got pneumonia - Viper scolded Fon for his idiocy when they found him shivering and coughing in his room before they helped him into the bed. They reluctantly parted with some of their favorite blend of strawberry tea, sharing it with Fon.

They listened to Fon's babble about his lost Sky, about his green eyes, his smile and laugh and how he pouted, about how he bristled when Renato - now Reborn - was up to his old seduction ricks via his Flames, and they reluctantly cuddled with him when Fon broke apart completely.

* * *

And then, there was time of depression. A year passed, and the anniversary of _That Day_ was coming around.

Unlike then, the weather was dark and sky rife with stormy clouds, as if even heaven were grieving Fon's loss on that day.

Fon was sitting at the window, his soulless eyes looking out at the nature's spectacle happening outside. The storm was dark and heavy, with wind biting its invisible fangs into trees and their branches while howling around the corners of the house.

Scowling, Verde glared at Viper.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He hissed at them, grumpy at being interrupted on his way of doing his only good deed of the year. He was cradled in the arm of a robot, which was carrying a plate with biscuits and two cups, filled with hot beverage in them. From first one, one could smell bitter and pungent smell of caffeine, and from the other, the steam rising out of it was scented as a chocolate.

Viper expressionlessly glared at the infamous scientists from their perch of a glass ball, similar plate, but this one loaded with two slices of strawberry mousse cake along with two cups of tea - one, of course filled with strawberry milk one, and another with oolong tea, both freshly brewed.

Verde twitched as he failed to look at Viper's face - and once more, he reminded himself to somehow build something to reveal Viper's face.

The illusionist didn't move, but their lips twitched into an unhappy moue as they glared at Verde from under their hood.

After a moment, both of them reached a tacit understanding, silently slinking into the room - or as silently one could slink, considering that Verde's robot wasn't exactly silent.

At least not to Fon's ears.

It was a strange sight, seeing a baby, clad in red, leaning at the window, dulled out black eyes looking somewhere in the distance, but the one he was chasing was already far away, far beyond his reach.

Even a stranger sight, two babies - one clad in green, for once out of his scientist attire, with crazily messy green ear atop his head cradled in a robot's hold, while the other baby was covered with deep-hooded cloak, only a small portion of face visible from their body staring at him, steadily, if not a little bit uncertainly.

A thunder echoed in distance, while rain rapped against the glass with its watery little claws.

One of them must have made a noise, because those listless eyes turned to them. Verde barely kept from recoiling when he saw those dark orbs. It was as if that was only a shell of Fon, and he wouldn't be wrong in his description.

It would be better to put him out of his misery than keep him living. Viper was motionless. They had seen many people losing their will to live, their very reason to continue on. Once upon a time, they were one as such too.

But it still felt like a punch in their stomachs to see the Strongest Storm like that. They were used to Fon being one of the pillars that kept their little family – well, _group_ \- up, what with Fon being protective over Skull and Verde, and to Viper's surprise, they somehow found their way on that short list too. Rain with her boy toy and Reborn were excluded for some reason, but that didn't really matter. All those three were annoyances that deserved to be wrung out of their money to the last cent.

(Viper knew they were _petty,_ but they didn't care.)

"He is not coming back, is he?" Fon's whisper slid past his cracked lips, prompting Viper to mutely nod their condolences.

Viper didn't have their Sky - that Sky who had lulled all of them into their trap wasn't worth of her title or name and in Viper's opinion, she would've been better off _dead,_ but for the life the Sky was carrying in her stomach.

And Viper wasn't a murderer. At least not one without morals, however skewed they were.

"No." Verde's answer was short and succinct. No pity. No mocking. Just a simple, hard fact.

A strained silence stretched between the three or them, cracked by Fon's laughter. It was more of a series of sad chuckles, tasting like absinthe on Verde's tongue, bitter with a tint of alcohol, burning through his mouth before sliding down into his gullet.

They kept their silence, allowing their comrade to laugh it out, those chuckles to fade into hitches that sliced into their mafia-toughened conscience with the sharpest blades imaginable.

If they hadn't heeded Reborn's orders right then, would there be any difference?

They didn't know.

Impatiently, Viper nudged the still steaming cup of oolong toward Fon, glaring at him from under their hood.

"He… he's really not here. Not anymore." Fon seemed to accept that fact and something within him, the last amber of hope dulled its feeble glow into water-drenched coal of acceptance. Slowly, almost as if he were a centenarian, and not a three-year old cursed super baby, Fon reached out for the cup, bringing it to his lips, and for a moment, he paused, as if wishing its contents weren't simple tea, but the strongest poison imaginable.

Verde closed his eyes. And once again, he cursed the fate that doled them out their titles as the strongest of their generation.

* * *

Next day, the sky was clear and air fresh, droplets of water clinging to threes and leaves like small diamonds sparkling in the morning dawn. There was no oppressive noise of the past night anymore hovering about; instead, here or there, a chirp or tweet sounded in the rain-enriched air.

A small red-clad baby was slowly moving through the movements in the garden, each of the moves executed with precision and patience that wouldn't be amiss in some far older than him.

Slow, easy inhale, and then, a light exhale to breathe the air out of those small lungs, tender limbs moving with the heartbeat or wind, making the sequence of movements look like an elegant dance more than a battle form it originated from.

Wisps of the red-colored flame enveloped the baby in its shroud, looking like semi-transparent silk, a shhorud weaving in and out of the baby's body in line with his heartbeat.

Inhale.

Exhale.

It was the beginning of the next day.

It was time, to move on. Somehow.

* * *

 ** _Ten years later…._**

Namimori was a quaint, pleasant town with calm atmosphere, kind residents and occasional wacky happening here and there, just like any another.

Nothing special. At least not _that_ much special.

The Hibari clan had lodged in that town practically since the beginning of its inception - they were their watchers and their protectors, however distant and scary they were. Not many people knew much about them, aside the fact they were some kind of law enforcement, they were scary and they didn't really mingle with usual crowds - at least not much. Here and there, an odd duck popped up that defied the common image of Hibari clan, but that was few and far between.

People were used to Hibari family and their strange idiosyncrasies, and the latest in that particular row was one Hibari Kyoya, the newest progeny and heir of the Hibari Clan. The boy was six year old, and already a complete and utter terror with his beloved tonfa and even more so his tendency to… well, bite anybody who had made it to his _'to bite'_ list.

There were of course exceptions, like that red-clad baby that occasionally popped up here hand there, usually with Hibari Kyoya glaring after him in some way of fashion. Good heavens, there were at least two cases when the brat tried to attack the baby - keyword: tried, because apparently baby was skillful enough to dodge the aforementioned hellion, and even gave him the tips on how to improve!

Not that that hell spawn needed any improving on that front in Namimori denizens' humble minds. He was already scary enough as it were!

* * *

Young Hibari Kyoya had a very clearly defined understanding of people around him. Either they were herbivores - that was a depressing majority – or they were carnivores - which was even more frustrating for the boy, because they were generally stronger and thus he was unable to properly bite them to death.

There was also matter of mating habits. Also very simple - herbivores with herbivores, carnivores with carnivores. No exceptions. His mother was carnivore, and his father was also carnivore, as it was prim and proper for such a union. So it was understandable that Kyoya had superior carnivore pedigree.

Kyoya prospered in such an environment - he had enough of herbivores to bite to death, if they annoyed him, and there were few carnivores that would truly disturb his territory. The occasions when there was strong enough of a carnivore to enter his territory - and to stay here - were few and far between.

(He wasn't fond of such occasions but he understood that it was a natural way of things. That, however, didn't stop him from sharpening his fangs to advance in the carnivore ladder as it were.)

One such carnivore was that not-baby carnivore in red. He didn't know why his parents allowed that pathetic not-baby carnivore to occasionally den in their territory - despite his strength, that particular carnivore more or less moped in his room or in the garden, his comings and goings unpredictable as the wind.

The not- baby carnivore was kind, to the point of being an herbivore. (Kyoya could attest the not- baby was anything but carnivore, with many bumps and bruises gained in his unsuccessful attempts to drive the said not-baby carnivore out of his territory.) But that wasn't what set his teeth on edge. It was that constant, dull, almost mopey look on his face, especially when he had gone to the park, usually settling himself into some tree and looking at the herbivores here.

Now, Kyoya wasn't stupid, and noticed that the said not-baby carnivore watched those sickeningly sweet herbivorous couples that were courting each other. Constantly. It was enough to make him gag, but as the true carnivore Kyoya was, he persisted in his observations.

Next time Kyoya noticed was that the said pathetic not-baby carnivore's attention was drawn to male herbivores with dark, messy hair. Next, the ones who held his attention the longest were herbivores who had green eyes. Not that there was an abundance of them, but Kyoya had noticed the trend nevertheless.

Finally, Kyoya had had it. There were herbivores to teach their place, and carnivores to bite to death, and he was not the one to baby anyone, never mind that not-baby carnivore.

So one day, he marched straight to the not-baby carnivore in question, glared into his taken-aback eyes and snapped at him.

"Stop being a cowardly herbivore and learn how to mate already!"

Fon was very, very lucky that he wasn't drinking any tea in the moment, but he couldn't escape a taken-aback cough at little Kyoya's audacious solution to his perceived problem.

" _Ah_ -Kyo, that isn't the problem here." He coughed out amused.

Slate gray eyes glared back at him. "You are _moping_ , baby-carnivore. You are staring at those dark-haired male herbivores, especially the ones with green eyes. You obviously don't want to bite them to death, because they are too herbivorous for that. Instead – " Here Kyoya shuddered with disgust – "You want to make _nice_ with them - " He spoke the sentence as if it was the single most horrifying deed in the entire history of humankind – "and take one of them to mate with." Kyoya involuntarily scrunched his nose, and Fon barely managed to stop himself from cooing at his precocious nephew. He was so cute, like a baby kitten or a wolf cub.

(Indeed, Fon wondered how would Kyoya look like with a pair of those wolf ears and paws-shaped mittens. His cuteness would undoubtedly be otherworldly!)

"I do not!" Fon protested, half-horrified, half-amused. "Well, I do want to make nice with them, this is basics of being polite, but where did you take that mating thing from?" he asked, half-mortified and half morbidly curious.

Kyoya sneered. "Keep fooling yourself, baby carnivore. And in case you haven't noticed - you were _drooling_. " This time, he scrunched his whole face in disgust, prompting Fon to hastily check his mouth for the drool in question.

(There was no drool present, much to Fon's silent relief.)

"I did not!" Fon protested.

"Did to." Kyoya countered, glaring back at the baby carnivore in question.

"Did _not_." Fon huffed out. "And even if I were, I am in a baby's body, and babies drool!" He half-glared at the impertinent brat in front of him.

Said impertinent brat gifted him with an unimpressed glare. "I remember a _certain_ someone who said that he had a complete control over the reactions of their baby herbivore body. Are you trying to tell me you _lied_ to me back then?"

A small bloodthirsty gleam glinted in Kyoya's eyes when he whipped out the tonfa from heavens know where.

(Fon sorely regretted the day he accidentally left his meager collection of weapons open, but Skull called him on the phone, and even if the talk lasted only five minutes, when Fon came back, Kyoya already found the said stash and nuzzling tonfa like baby kitten and Fon really didn't have heart to part Kyoya from his newest cuddle buddy. Alright, he may have been guilty of not procuring plushie to Kyoya as a gift when he came to Hibari's ancestral house, but Kyoya looked happy as a clam with tonfa and whoever tried to part him from them… well they deserved being bitten. Literally.)

Fon grimaced. "You are _so_ not cute, _Ah-Kyo."_ He sighed with disappointment, causing Kyoya to puff out his small chest with pride as he flashed him a small carnivorous ( _cute_ ) smirk.

"Carnivores are _not_ cute. I am a carnivore. And you are still drooling." He retorted, preparing for the onslaught that would undoubtedly follow the fallout.

This time, Fon glared at the brat. His relation or not, he won't be falling for that kind of trick for the second time!

" _Ah-Kyo_. Do you know what _'mating_ ' means?" He inquired the child despite knowing that the answer would not be healthy for his mental processes. But like those westerners said, curiosity killed the cat.

Kyoya blinked. "Get naked and do horizontal dance in a bed." Then, Kyoya frowned, confused. "Though if they had to dance, they could do that standing on the floor. And with lots more clothes to boot."

Fon barely kept himself from tripping on thin air. Just who was teaching that brat colloquialisms for procreation, really?

" _Ah_. And who told you _that?"_ He had to know whose person's neck he needed to wring. And he would do it personally. Really, his motives were honest and pure. Fon's smile was more of a kind mask on his face than anything else.

"Some useless herbivore." Kyoya shrugged carelessly. "He was doing horizontal dance with his herbivore of a mate in the park."

Fon kept his smile. He could already predict how this particular episode ended. But still he had to ask.

" _And?"_ Kyoya smirked at his long-suffering inquiry, obviously proud of his misdeed.

"I bit them to death."

He should have known it. Fon groaned as he covered his eyes, deeply embarrassed for the overly-carnivorous kid he had the misfortune to babysit.

"Did you at least let them dress first?"

Kyoya tilted his head, and dammit, he was _not_ cute. He was pure trouble with all the capitals included.

"Why?"

Fon felt his blood pressure rise. _That brat!_ Hadn't his parents taught him to behave like civilized, innocent being instead of letting him round around like some kind of a semi-civilized Tarzan!

"They were already clothed." Kyoya was confused. "So there was no reason to _not_ bite them to death."

* * *

(Somewhere, a certain dancer shivered with fear when he remembered his brush with death - aka - meeting an extremely scary, tonfa-wielding brat who demanded to know what he was doing to his dance partner in such a public place. Sure, he took his little joke a little too far, but damn it, he could be petty too, considering the brat shot first and asked questions latter. His right tight and forearm still hurt like nobody's business right where the brat thwacked them in an effort to make him let go of the girl with which he was dancing.)

(Almost a decade later, one Sengoku Kaname still got ice cold shivers down his spine whenever he heard one particular phrase that combined _'biting'_ and _'to death'_.)

* * *

 _ **Scribble**_

 _Archer was not a happy camper._

 _Harry was a bundle of trouble - really, Archer left him for five hours, and already, Harry had vanished to gods know where, and right now, Archer followed the trail into some dark dinky alley that was giving him hives._

 _Archer seriously hoped that it wasn't where Harry elected their new den to be. Or, more likely, Harry's new spot for trouble._

"Five hours. _Honestly, do I have to buy a_ leash _to keep him from trotting off straight into trouble?" Archer grumbled to himself. But the more he thought of it, the more he liked the idea. At least that way he, Archer could be sure that –_

 _There was a dark, threatening growl behind him. Like that of a very big wolf or some similar predator._

 _Archer acted on instinct. He grabbed some thin iron handle out of the mass of garbage, swiftly turned around while swinging it and –_

BANNG!

 _The loud metallic sound echoed in the narrow, dark alley, and to Archer horror, there was a shape of a helm - or half of it - indented into perfectly good cooking pan._

 _And for a moment, both prey and predator stood still._


	68. Chapter 68

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters or song, I own the flow of story and all the little tumbles and trips leading through it.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ So there. Much to do, but still managed to squeeze that in, even if this chapter rebelled with all fours against being written. Changed the laptop, uploaded the programs I frequently use, so hopefully writing will be better and easier, though I still must learn the ins and outs of new system. I am going back to work, and it depends on my workload whether and how much I will manage to upload in the coming months. This chapter is a bit of a mess because things are converging into one point, Fate/Zero-wise, and I enjoyed teasing our Goldie something fierce. The entire story is going off the rails, and I just about gave up on sticking to cannon, so you may expect deviations henceforth. One of you asked me about Hedwig and Alucard, and I promise those two will come later in the story. Because Bel needs his feathery buddy in bloodthirst, no?

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, Goldie stealing scenes, Archer is scary, Cuddle Buddy is back in action and a certain skylark is angry.

* * *

 _I'm digging with my fingertips_ _  
_ _I'm ripping at the ground I stand upon_ _  
_ _I'm searching for fragile bones_ _  
_ _(Evolution)  
I'm never gonna be refined_ _  
_ _Keep trying, but I won't assimilate  
Sure, we have come far in time_ _  
_ _(Watch the bow break)_

 _And I'm sorry I don't believe_

 _By the evidence that I see_ _  
_ _That there's any hope left for me  
It's evolution!  
Just evolution!_

( _'Evolution'_ by Korn)

* * *

Archer was not a happy camper.

Harry was a bundle of trouble - really, Archer left him for measly five hours, and already, Harry had vanished to gods know where, and right now, Archer followed the trail into some dark dinky alley that was giving him hives.

Archer seriously hoped that it wasn't where Harry elected their new den to be. Or, more likely, Harry's new spot for trouble.

"Five hours. Honestly, do I have to buy a leash to keep him from trotting off straight into trouble?" Archer grumbled to himself. But the more he thought of it, the more he liked the idea. At least that way he, Archer could be sure that –

There was a dark, threatening growl behind him. Like that of a very big wolf or some similar predator.

Archer acted on instinct. He grabbed some thin iron handle out of the mass of garbage, swiftly turned around while swinging it and –

 _ **BANNG!**_

The loud metallic sound echoed in the narrow, dark alley, and to Archer's horror, there was a shape of a helm - or half of it - indented into perfectly good cooking pan.

And for a moment, both prey and predator stood still.

Steel grey eyes stared into glowing red slit of a helm.

''… _Fuck."_

If Archer had time, he would've facepalmed at the stupidity he had inadvertently found himself in.

The monster - Archer held back a grimace when he comprehended that the monster in question was likely the Berserker of the menagerie padding out and about - tilted his head the red flickering a little, as if denoting Berserker was in a small daze from Archer's little love tap.

It was like his F-rank Luck activated whenever he was away from Harry.

Not that they tested this little titbit extensively, but honestly, Archer's luck was Just That Damn Bad.

And with them being entangled in ongoing Grail War...

"I'm so _screwed_." Archer barely had to time to bemoan his fate, before Berserker roared and somehow managed to summon from heavens know where almost identical pan to the one Archer was holding in his hand and attacked the tanned white-haired Counter Guardian with all the zeal of an extremely wronged housewife.

Mentally, Archer couldn't help but sweat drop.

It seemed that finding Harry would have to wait a little.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry felt extremely annoyed.

It was one thing that Kirei had shot up like a weed - pun _not_ intended, but it was a sheer _injustice_ that Kiritsugu also managed to get some, thus leaving Harry in the proverbial dust with his 5.8 feet of height.

He also picked up the habit of smoking those cancer sticks that made Harry wrinkle his nose at their scent, and for some reason, he was being clad in a suit of all things and a coat, a glaring counter-image to his usual appearance of jeans trousers, T-shirt and bomber jacket.

Well, at least he matched with his Servant - which, for some reason, Harry got a hunch he ought to know from somewhere. It was probably just the accent throwing him off, though.

Kirei and Kiritsugu quickly picked up their rivalry where they left it from, much to Harry's consternation, and only Gil's presence kept them from destroying their surroundings. Tohsaka was not helpful at least - Harry didn't know why, but the man feared Gil to death, even going so far as to kowtow to him when requesting for something, despite of him being a Master and Gil a Servant. Father Risei was polite and to some degree joyful old man, but Kirei didn't really let Harry much chances to speak with him, so Harry was undecided on how to treat the older priest. For some reason Father Risei also seemed to accept Kirei's claims of Harry being his wife, much to Harry's chagrined ire.

Honestly, Harry's favourite person right now in this madhouse was undoubtedly Gil, never mind his prissy ways.

Still, Gil nearly gave Harry a heart attack with claiming him as his little brother out of the blue. Not that Harry _minded_ , mind you, it was nice that someone wanted him enough to adopt him in their family without being prodded or coerced in any way, shape or form, but he had a feeling that this little adoption thing was a little too real in his case.

"Hey, Gil?" He inquired the Heroic Spirit as they walked alongside the river. It was late morning and Harry blithely left his two friends to cause headache to their hosts - meaning Risei and Tokiomi - while he and Gil snuck out of the house for a walk.

Gil was clothed in his usual clothes - brown shoes and trousers made of snake skin, dark sleeveless shirt and white furred hoodie, his hair still in its usual spiky glory, and golden earrings glinting in the morning light

(That, and Harry needed to replenish groceries. Both Kirei and Kiritsugu ate even more, if that was even possible, and there was _Saber_. The petite girl's appetite was so great that if Harry hadn't known that she was a Heroic Spirit, he would undoubtedly think that she was Ron's daughter - she surely had his bottomless stomach, but thankfully better manners than the youngest male Weasley in question.)

"Yes?" Gil glanced at him, and Harry was once again surprised with just how many colours could the red have. They were walking back toward the church, both carrying their own load of groceries. Surprisingly, Gil was towing along a heavy bag of rice on his shoulder, and for all its weight, he still looked like a model straight off catwalk. It was a good decision for them to choose the route that went most of the time along the river, otherwise Gil would've been all too eye-catching for Harry's tastes.

"Why did you claim me as a brother?" Harry blurted out the question that weighed on his mind. "Not that I mind - I am glad that you _did_ , but…" He hurried, embarrassed at his own straightforwardness as he looked at the river that placidly moved by.

"You'd better." Gil quipped back. Looking at Harry's mortified face, he smirked. "For entertainment value. And…" He paused.

"That Flame of yours would be trouble otherwise."

His eyes widening, Harry screeched to a halt.

" _Flames?"_ He choked out. "Are you talking about –! "He waved his hand helplessly, hoping that Gil caught the meaning. It was a little awkward, what with him holding a bag of groceries in both of his hands but still!

Gil smirked. "But of course. I own everything under the heavens, which also includes knowledge. "

Harry made a face. "Should've _known_." He muttered to himself, exasperated. Gil smirked even wider as he nodded at the little wizard that walked alongside him. For a moment, it was like those old times, but instead of scruffy haired, green-eyed wizard, there was his beloved friend walking alongside him, noiselessly following him into the birth of the new day like human-shaped shadow.

Gil blinked, and the moment passed.

"You should've." He sniffed mock-importantly, barely holding back a grin at Harry's irate glare at his person.

Needling Harry was a prime entertainment, as proven by Harry's friends, and Gil quickly saw the value in this newly gained pastime.

"But if you know that…" Harry's eyes gained a shrewd gleam as he stared at Gil. "Then you too, have those Flames."

Much to Harry's surprise and ire, Gil outright _guffawed_ at his poorly veiled attempt at getting information.

"You are five thousand years too early to wheedle any information out of me, _little_ brother!" Harry shot him a glare that wouldn't be amiss on Medusa's face.

" _ **Gil**_ – "He growled out, peeved at Gil's teasing.

Gil's explosion of hilarity petered out into small chuckles. Seriously, it was hard for him not to be amused when Harry was looking like a grumpy kitten in a human form!

"Maybe I do maybe I don't." the ancient King drawled out, enjoying the small play.

" _Fine."_ Harry obviously gave up on that venue. "But why did you say that my Fame is trouble?" He inquired, curious.

"I feel it. You are just like me, so it's easy for me to know what to look for." Gil shook his head, silky smooth golden tresses on his head glinting in the sun as he waved the subject off.

"Just like you?" Harry frowned at Gil's enigmatic words, feeling his arms aching with the burden he was carrying, but he persisted. Silently, he swore to dump that particular duty to either Kiritsugu or Kirei the next time they will need provisions.

" _Mm_. In a way." Gil hummed, nodding at him. "Just like your friends are similar to my own." A flash of bitter smile, filled with longing, passed his face, like an illusion. "I just hope you will have a better ending than we did."

They spent the rest of their walk in a subdued silence.

* * *

Saber was feeling annoyed and irritated. Her Summoning could've gone better than it had - seriously, she didn't need to see man's naked bits the first thing she laid her eyes on her Master, never mind that it wasn't Kiritsugu's fault, and as a 'man' she had seen worse in her lifetime as a living human being, it was principle of things, really! She was also a lady, and ladies oughtn't have to bear such things with undue reason!

Secondly, her Master apparently had a beef with the priest, and both were on the verge of decimating their surroundings if not for Father Risei's barely timely warning that they were currently on a neutral ground, so their slug-fest was no-go right then and there.

Thirdly, that gold-clad asshole of a Servant grated on all her delicate sensibilities. Calling her a dog and a mongrel and completely disrespecting her claim as a King, this golden jerk of a bastard was simply insufferable! Heavens know just how Harry dealt with him, considering the Grand Jerkiness claimed him as a little brother.

(She couldn't manage so suppress an entertained smirk at the memory of both the battle-bound idiots' unattractive gawping at his proclamation, and even more so, how both of them looked like two scolded puppies when the Golden Jerk kept Harry all for himself that evening, even going so far as to have him sitting in his lap at the mealtime. Harry's protests at his newest position were not heeded in the slightest, for which she pitied the green-eyed youth - but only a little. Maybe she ought to compensate him for his sacrifice.)

And there was also the mess with that red-eyed child and his entourage. Of-freaking course Kiritsugu completely forgot about them - Saber felt the vein at the side of her temple throb with ire - it was like the priest was a red flag for him - once Kiritsugu saw him, all beats were off. Well, _almost._ And thus, she was stuck with excusing herself to Father Risei and his acquaintance to go back to her and Kiritsugu's base to check on the little hellion and his … whatever they were.

Saber - or if you asked her for her name, Arturia Pendragon, the Once and Future King - alright, _Queen_ of England, not that many people knew about it, was now demoted to a nanny of all things. That wasn't the worst of the position, but dealing with that man-child of her Master, along with the hellion that was the priest's unofficial son and his growing ha - ahem, court - well, anybody would agree that it was a taxing position to be in.

Pasting a kind - but more like irritated - smile on her face, she grabbed Kiritsugu by the scruff of his coat and yanked him back from his epic stare-down with the priest.

"Did it ever _occur_ to you," she began, her voice tense like a steel string, about to be broken "- that we have to feed additional tree mouths?"

Kiritsugu blinked. " _Additional_ three?" He parroted, confused at her question.

"Of course." Saber agreed, prim and proper, as befitted to a true-blue Brit, but Kiritsugu still shrank back within himself upon seeing that Mona Lisa smile of hers. "Kids, remember?"

Kiritsugu gave her a blank stare for a second, but then, Saber could almost see the cogwheels in his skull spinning as the blank look swiftly removed itself to make way to almost unholy glee.

(Saber pitied the poor fool on the other side of that particular facial expression of Kiritsugu's.)

"Hey, Kirei?" Kiritsugu straightened out, forcing Saber to loosen her grip on his clothes.

"I think I have something of yours."

This time, it was Kirei's turn to give him a blank stare, full of incomprehension.

"I don't recall giving anything of mine in your care." He asked, his voice completely devoid of emotions. Kiritsugu gifted him with a positively beatific smile

"Oh, but you _did."_ Kiritsugu purred out. "A certain red-eyed, foul-mouthed brat with a propensity to call you Mommy."

And judging by Kirei's face, he knew _exactly_ who Kiritsugu was talking about.

Saber's mind blanked out when she connected all the dots and filed in the blanks. And the picture was truly horrifying.

"Oh _god."_ She stared at the young priest, horrified, before she turned back to Kiritsugu.

" _He_ is his father?" She pointed at Kirei, as she asked Kiritsugu for verification that yes, Xanxus was the son of that troll bedecked in holy vestiges.

Kiritsugu shrugged, apparently enjoying Saber's mental meltdown.

"More like mother, but you get the gist."

* * *

When they returned, Harry was besieged by the happy, albeit belated piece of news that was Xanxus' continued existence.

Or rather, he and Gil stumbled on that silent - well, not so silent one - of Kirei and Kiritsugu - Kiritsugu wanted to offload the brat on Kirei's shoulders, because Kirei was his legal mother, even loosely speaking, and Kirei was not really accepting of it, correctly interpreting that as Sharing Time with the red-eyed brat and his female cohort, which was a huge no-no in his books.

Saber just looked stupefied, still not believing that Kirei, as a priest, was responsible for conceiving that red-eyed menace she and Kiritsugu had taken underneath their collective wing, so to speak.

After ensuring that the kid in question was hearty and hale, Harry of course agreed to having him along, much to Kirei's silent despair, Saber's relief and Kiritsugu's glee.

What cemented the decision of relocating Xanxus to the church was of course Father Risei's benevolent invitation of his unofficial grandson to visit them, because of course, he would be glad to house Kirei's unofficial disciple.

(Everyone else thought that Father Risei was way too deep in denial in many things pertaining this subject.)

But now, the Great Debate was happening in the kitchen - starring Kirei and Kiritsugu, with Harry as the subject and maker of dinner, and Gil, Tokiomi and Father Risei as spectators.

"But he is staying out of it." Kirei laid down the law, causing Kiritsugu's previously silently smug face to fall with annoyance.

"You are rooming with Tokiomi, who is also your competitor in the war. Thus, me staying here should be a non-issue." Kiritsugu argued back, dark eyes flashing with irritation.

Kirei gifted him with a bland glare. "But we are also allies." He refuted Kiritsugu's argument. "It's logical for us to be together in the same space, at least for the sake of planning. You, however, are no ally of ours, and thus it would be detrimental to house you along with us."

Kiritsugu's eyebrow twitched. Kirei's argument was flawless, as always. But that didn't mean he would give up. Oh no, that was not his style.

"Well, then you agree that situation here is dire enough to warrant you two to team up. But that also means, Harry is in danger, thus he would be safer rooming with me." Now it was Kiritsugu's turn to be smug, and Kirei's to be dissatisfied.

"' _He'_ would appreciate to be included in your decision making." Harry flatly reminded them, as he chopped the carrots for the soup with a little too much force.

"Do you really think I would leave my little brother with _you_ , mongrel?" Gil glared at Kiritsugu, his red eyes flashing dangerously.

Kiritsugu paused. "Of course… Not. But that's Harry's decision, isn't it?" He grinned back at the Heroic Spirit rather confidently, despite his urge to draw the Contender and shot the golden annoyance dead.

This Heroic Spirit was dangerous - extremely so, and Kiritsugu could barely breathe under the pressure it exhibited, and glancing at Kirei, the priest was in no better state. Tokiomi was already hyperventilating, while Father Risei was sweating with effort to sit upright.

The only one not affected was Harry, who calmly switched carrots for potatoes, meticulously chopping them in even square pieces.

A silence pervaded the place.

Kiritsugu sweated.

Harry chopped the vegetables, looking for all he was worth like Cooking Buddha, nothing disturbing his claim.

Kiritsugu sweated some more.

"Harry… Say something?" His demand came out more like a squeak, because the Golden King increased the pressure upon then.

Slowly, Harry looked up, straight into Kiritsugu's hopeful eyes.

His mouth opened, and Kiritsugu almost sagged with relief when Harry spoke a singular word that made him aware, he fucked up very, very bad.

"Something." Harry droned out, not even pausing in his work.

Gil's bad mood changed into entertained one when his prey exchanged helpless glances upon not receiving any help from his little brother.

"What makes you mongrels even _think_ that my little brother would accept your pitiful lodgings?" Gil threw in his two cents, only for Harry to give him a small glare.

"Gil. You were also summoned in those pitiful lodgings. So sorry it isn't to your tastes, but you know, we are just mere mortals." He droned out, freezing Gil's smirk off his face.

"Oooh, _burn."_ Kiritsugu piped up, grinning.

"And as I _said,"_ Harry growled the last word out a little bit louder, "It is _my_ choice where I will or will not lodge."

Now both his friends and Gil aimed their unimpressed stares back at him.

"Last I knew, Harry, you didn't have any documents, money or anything else to survive." Kirei interjected as he tipped his chin at Harry. "So, it would be only logical to stay here in the meantime. I am sure Xanxus would appreciate your presence, too.

Kiritsugu barely restrained not to gape at that shameless priest. Why that little - !

Harry visibly wavered at Kirei's words, before he steeled himself.

"Be that as it may, I still can visit you – "

"Harry? What the _fuck_ are you doing here - and for that matter, _why_ are you here?" Came a very pissed off voice from the door, causing the eyes of all present in the room to snap at the intruder.

"Archer! Um, I can explain?" Harry was the first one to find his voice, his eyes wide and he cautiously stepped backward when Archer menacingly strode to him.

"Five hours." The tall, tanned, white-haired, and black-clad man said, his voice pleasant, if not for the echo of thousand swords hiding within. It didn't help that in one hand, he held a badly malformed pan that had surely served him as a weapon once… or twice... or thrice.

Harry cringed at the gentle reminder.

" _Five_ hours, Harry. I leave you alone for five hours, and when I finish my shift, what do I get? No hello, not even a _notice_ that you are gone, or even for how long. And of course, when I searched for you, your pet was pretty _adamant_ on following me - "

"But I don't have a pet!" Harry interrupted him.

Archer quirked his eyebrow. "No?"

At Harry's mute shake of his head, Archer's silver eyes narrowed in a glare, when the shadow behind him stretched, slowly forming into a well-known spiky, armored behemoth, whose helm was horribly dented, the long, elegant glowing blue, ribbon scruffy and torn, flickering at torn edges, while the usually menacing red slit shone with dull light.

There was a long rattling whine, something a hellhound puppy would sound like, before the big form dove for Harry, immediately curling around him, like it was trying to hide from Archer as it hissed at him like some kind of spooked cat.

" _B - Berserker?"_ Harry coughed out with surprise, his eyes wide and completely confused at the outcome. "What was he doing with you?"

Archer's glare stepped up another three notches. "Like I _said_ , I was searching for you, and then I was ambushed by him." He gave a fairly menacing smile to the hulking mass quivering behind Harry - and was that just Kiritsugu's eyes or did the edges of horribly dented pan gleam with bloodthirsty light?

"Of course, he wasn't really chatty fellow, much preferring to try to kill me - imagine that - so we exchanged some pointers and at some point, I may or may not mentioned you. "Archer shrugged as he snatched a knife from Harry's slackened hand before stealthily commandeering the chopping block, continuing Harry's work, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do, the dented pan nowhere to be seen.

"And after that - well, he decided to follow me. End of the story."

' _What end of the story, you omitted practically everything!'_ Everyone else thought to themselves. Well, aside from Berserker, who was only to contend to happily nuzzle the back of Harry's head with a rumbling purr in the hollow of his chest.

"Harry. Explain it to me. Why is Berserker glued to yourself?" Kirei's smile could murder newborn kittens.

Looking like a deer in a headlight, Harry helplessly shrugged.

" _Um._ Well. He is my cuddle buddy?" Even to himself, the explanation sounded incredibly weak, even as true as it were.

" _Cuddle buddy,_ he says - "Kiritsugu's voice was completely flat.

"Berserker is Matou's Servant. Have you usurped their Seals, young man?" Father Risei interrupted Kiritsugu, his face stern and voice hard. Because if Harry had done so, then there would be consequences.

Harry glared at the elder priest, not liking the connotations in Father Risei's questions. "Like I said, he is my cuddle buddy. When I came in Fuyuki, his master had saved me, and I met Berserker. Long story short, I was curious, and we ended up cuddling."

" _Cuddling?"_ Tokiomi repeated, incredulous. "Berserker class is the absolutely least choice to…" he grimaced, as if it pained him to say it – " _cuddle_ with. They are mindless, perpetual rage machines. "

He squeaked when Berserker growled at him a rather thunderous growl, and only Harry holding him back separated one Tohsaka Tokiomi from his dear life and particularly gruesome death.

" _Silence,_ mongrel. And let go off my little brother, or else …" Gil threatened the dented rust bucket of madness that was Berserker, only to attract Archer's attention to himself away from his creative creating of culinary delights.

"Oh, god, no _. Goldie_ adopted you?" Archer's horrified whisper to Harry may as well be a yell, echoing through the modest-sized kitchen.

Gil's eyes gleamed with irate light.

" _What_ did you call me, you filthy mongrel?" The Golden King growled at him, and concentric golden circles appeared, causing Tokiomi to yelp with fright as he unceremoniously dove underneath the table, Father Risei to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.

(Berserker was in la-la land, completely blissed out at getting his Harry-dose of cuddles, much to Harry's dismay.)

Kiritsugu's grin was all kinds of unholy and Harry had a feeling Kirei's inner troll was also rejoicing at getting additional material to troll his unofficial big brother with.

"Your ears are failing you at your age. But of course, you _are_ old as dirt, so there's that." Archer automatically snarked, his lips curling in a defiant grin. "But I was taught to honor my seniors, so I don't mind repeating it. _Goldie."_

"Do you even _know_ who you are talking to, you filthy dog? If you do, you'd better kneel before me and beg me for mercy!" Gil's eyes may as well be lasers at that point, so sharp they were.

Archer snorted, unimpressed.

"But of course. Gilgamesh of Uruk, King of Heroes. "

Casually spoken words, but they may as well be loud as thunder as they echoed across the space of the room. Gil - or rather, Gilgamesh - preened under the shocked stares of those not in know - that's to say, Kiritsugu and Harry. But his moment of glory was rather short.

Before the occupants recovered from their collective shock, archer spoke once more.

"However, that's a mouthful." He said, his voice one of a helpful, overly eager young fake janitor. "So, it's better and more convenient to call you ' _Goldie_ ' instead."

Harry couldn't help but facepalm at Archer's suicidal tendencies. He didn't know Gil - No, Gilgamesh for long, but even he knew that the ancient being's power wasn't any sort of mirage.

But _wow_. Gilgamesh - _that_ Gilgamesh - wanted to adopt him? It boggled the reason, really. And for some reason, Harry kind of wondered what goblins would do, if they knew that tidbit of information.

"Archer, _seriously_. Are you _tired_ of living?" He queried his Servant, causing Archer to look at him with a smile.

"Well, no. But life is a little bit more entertaining when it's - shall we say _\- properly_ spiced up." Archer fairly beamed at him before twirling around in search of an appropriate pot to cook the cut vegetables in.

"I _forbid_ you mingling with this mongrel." Of course, Gil was not happy. Rather, the Golden King was till extremely incensed at the disrespect shown to him by Archer.

"Nah, you are too late for that." Surprisingly, the one to pick up that one was Kiritsugu himself. "Harry had my son as his Servant way before you came into picture." He shrugged, as if pitying the increasingly irate King of Heroes. "Sucks to be you, but it can't be helped."

Harry wanted to be far, far away from that proverbial bomb when Gil's eyes zeroed on him, angry and a little bit betrayed. But well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

"Care to enlighten me?"

Harry gulped. Silently, he allowed Berserker to burrow him deeper into his koala-like embrace, willing himself to submerge into it and vanish, for at least some hundred years or so.

"Well. It all began in Italy…"

* * *

 _ **/Scribble/**_

 _Rokudo Mukuro was usually pretty had to throw off his track when he wanted something. Six lives and deaths can do that to you - not that he would brag that he saw and experienced everything, but still, having six lifetimes under his belt was not something many people aside Vindice could brag about._

 _He prided himself on being a Mist of a monstrous caliber - of course, they still existed people, better than him, like Viper of Varia's, but most of them were woefully badly prepared if they had gone against him. After all, Mist that could wield not only illusions but also weapons, was so rare it was borderline to myth._

"I am the bone of my sword."

 _And yet, despite his vast experience, Mukuro was wholly unprepared to deal with one white-haired, golden eyed teen armed with twin falchions._

"Steel is my body and fire is my blood."

 _This world - this barren world made of fire, like some giant, windless forge, upon which resided tens of thousands of swords, completely disregarding Mukuro's attempts to dispel it –_

"I have created over thousand blades."

 _Swords. Swords everywhere, blades of all times, nationalities and makes, preserved in perfect condition, waiting to be drawn out of the ground and used._

 _Sweating, Mukuro couldn't help but feel a tick of ire against his left temple._

 _Against all expectations –_

 _One Emiya Shirou was an utter and complete cheating bastard, and Mukuro felt his lips stretch into a helpless grin filled with bloodthirst._

 _(When one Hibari Kyoya found out about Mukuro's little training tryst with the white-haired teen, he was not amused.)_

 _(That corpse of a pineapple wasn't even worth of the honorable title of Kyoya's attention, and now, it was stretching its rotten claws after Kyoya's first, strongest and closest rival?)_

 _(Oh, there would be_ **blood** _. And lots of it.)_


	69. Chapter 69

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own them. Aside story. _Finito._

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Whew, another chapter out. Honestly had no idea on what to write before throwing the lot together, but something came out anyway. It's a mix'n'match, with trouble to follow all around. Waver will be coming soon, but _shh,_ everything else is a secret.

 _ **Warnings:** **AU**_ on multiple scales, Xanxus Is Not Happy, Gil as an enforcer for a certain puppy, There Is A Plot _(Really?)_ and Tsuna's normal has gone bye-bye but he surprisingly doesn't regret it… Much. Not beta-read (I swear I have to find someone to get through that monster someday…)

 _ **Dictionary:**_ ' _A proposita, cazzo idioti' (Italian)- About time (you) fucking idiots!_

* * *

 _Today is gonna be the day_

 _That they're gonna throw it back to you_

 _By now you should've somehow_

 _Realized what you gotta do_

 _I don't believe that anybody_

 _Feels the way I do, about you now_

( _'Wonderwall'_ by Oasis)

* * *

"This was your _son?"_ Saber questioned Kiritsugu, her voice incredulous when they were trudging back to their temporary haunt to check on certain kitty brat - and maybe, if Kiritsugu would be feeling generous, imparting to him the happy news both of Xanxus' … ahem, _parents,_ were hearty and hale, though seemingly in some kind of a war… along with Kiritsugu.

Kiritsugu wanted to stay back with Harry, but the situation was becoming increasingly more dangerous, considering that Archer exercised his not-much used trolling rights and announced to Gilgamesh that Harry was his Master and there was no way in heaven or hell he was leaving Harry with the golden King of Heroes, Gil being his self-proclaimed big brother or not. Saber, bless her pragmatic soul, dragged him away from what seemed to be a soon-to-be-epicenter of a magnificent explosion, much to Kiritsugu's dismayed chagrin.

"Yup, he is." Kiritsugu nodded as he lengthened his strides, Saber almost running to match him.

"This doesn't make any kind of sense. You are way too young to have a son…. You _do_ have one, do you?" Saber gave him one of her suspicious glares.

"I don't, but apparently I do." Kiritsugu shrugged, and if Saber was any less of a King she was, she would've done something horrible to her current Master.

Dark eyes glanced at her before Kiritsugu looked forward once again. "When Harry Summoned him, he called me Dad, so it's safe to surmise that somewhere in the future, I will have a son." Kiritsugu grimaced as he was all too acutely reminded of Archer's saltiness about the subject.

"You claim you love Harry, yet you will have a son." Saber deadpanned. Kiritsugu shrugged.

"Stranger things have happened. He and Kirei adopted that hell spawn of theirs, so what's to say I won't adopt mine when the time comes?"

Frowning, Saber thought about it. "That would do it," she finally agreed. "But I am curious just how he became a Heroic Spirit. In this era, it's practically impossible to be one."

Pausing in his walk, Kiritsugu looked at his Servant. "Isn't that a moot point now? What is important is that Harry is safe and sound, and if Archer protects him, then all the better."

"You are forgetting that by having a Servant, he is essentially your enemy in this War." Saber reminded him; her voice cold. "In order to gain the Grail, you will have to kill all the Servants, including that Archer of his. Not to mention he is currently living with two other masters who could sic their Servants on him anytime and anyplace and Archer could do nothing about it."

Much to Saber's shock, Kiritsugu laughed. Actually _laughed_ about her concerns, right into her face. "And you are forgetting something else, Saber. Gilgamesh claimed him as his little brother, meaning that Tokiomi or anyone else could do jack shit to even the littlest hair on Harry's head. And if not Gilgamesh, I am pretty sure Kirei would go against any and all orders if they attempt to harm Harry in any way, shape or form. If anyone ought to fear for their lives, it would have to be Tokiomi and Father Risei "

He uttered the last word with dark loathing that confused Saber even further. Retreating back behind the mask of Magus Killer, Kiritsugu resumed his walk, Saber hurrying behind him, numerous questions swirling through her mind.

Father Risei seemed to be a kind, jolly man that had gone through many kinds in his life which made him wiser and kinder for it. Kiritsugu hadn't shown that kind of animosity against the man before, so this was a small shock to the blond-haired girl who was taught to respect Church officials.

"You seem to hate Father Risei. But up until today, you haven't met the man."

Dark eyes, deeper and more dangerous than any abyss Saber had ever seen in her life, looked back at her, causing her to involuntarily pause in following after his footsteps. In that moment, Kiritsugu wasn't slightly foolish young man she met when she had been summoned, but a weathered fighter who had seen and done unimaginable horrors, horrors terrible enough for the fellow magi to give him the terrifying nickname of Magus Killer.

"Then you would be mistaken." Kiritsugu rebuffed her supposition with clipped words.

They didn't speak any more words, leaving Saber wondering just what kind of Master she was serving under and what connected both him and Kotomine Kirei to the seemingly ordinary green-eyed teenager firmly enough that both of the Master's primary concern was him and not winning the Holy Grail to wish for their heart's desire.

* * *

Archer had to be the most suicidal bastard - living or not - ever. Harry slumped onto the couch, valiantly trying to ignore the hulking and purring mass attempting to cuddle against him. The green-eyed teen had a brush with death - or so it seemed - when he had been prompted to retell exactly how had he gained _that_ Archer out of all people as his Servant, and ten years ahead the Grail War to boot. It was bad enough that both Tokiomi and Father Risei had heard that, even if Harry tried to omit as many details ( _mafia_ ) out of it as possible, but to his confusion, both of them blanched stark white when he briefly mentioned to them that red-eyed one-time coffee-table buddy who presumably left him the catalyst with which he summoned Archer, both the first time and the second.

But well, Harry wasn't one to question his sudden bout of luck when they ceased to question him. Though he felt very awkward when Tokiomi was half to kowtowing to _him_ , of all people, much to Gil's smugness, and Father Risei became tad bit more… Friendly? Polite? Whatever it was, it seemingly cemented Harry's position as persona grata in Kotomine household for a foreseeable future.

The two men along with Kirei then removed themselves from the Almost-Warzone, doubtlessly in order to adjust their schemes, while Harry had to deal with his current position of being on the couch and in grasp of Berserker.

Gilgamesh was sitting in his own chair, apparently still not in forgiving enough mood to hoard Harry for himself, like he had done when Kirei and Kiritsugu started all that mess.

Harry had looked at Archer for help, but the white-haired bastard smoothly ignored his desperate eye-messages to get the hell out of dodge right now, and while proceeding to ponder - aloud, of course - what kind of groceries he would need to cook tomorrow's lunch.

Which left Harry bereft of anything to do, except to play Berserker's cuddle buddy on the couch while contemplating how to relieve himself that cuddly barnacle of a Berserker with all his spiked glory in time to sleep.

"Berserker - "There was a grating whine right next to his ear, oddly enough in a complaining tone. _"Berry."_ Harry amended, mentally sweat dropping at the happy purr he got in return from the steel-clad behemoth. Surely being named after a fruit had to be demeaning in some sense. "Why aren't you with your Master?"

The 'Berry' in question stilled, before a thunderous half-screech, half growl ripped itself out of his chest, the sound akin to yowling to some extremely pissed off demonic cat in all of its humanized glory, causing Harry to flinch and cover his ears as Berserker continued to rant in that tune, see-sawing the eardrums of everyone present.

"Hey, pipe it down, dude, will you? I know you are pissed at Matou, but _seriously?_ " Archer's voice was barely heard over Berserker's indignant rant of injustices done to him in Harry's absence.

" _Mongrel."_ Only one word of warning, but it encompassed almost all of Golden King's displeasure at the heinous sound he was forced to hear.

Berserker's ear-piercing yowl changed into a deep, grave rumble. Red light glinting through the eye-slit in helm became brighter, as if signifying him glaring at the Golden King, heedless of the consequences.

Harry patted the arm encircling his waist. "Thank you for quieting down." He flashed Berserker a stiff smile, his ears still ringing from Berserker's impromptu rant. Honestly, was one of the man's ancestors a Mandrake or something? Because aside Wizarding world, Harry sincerely doubted he would've found such a voice in nature anywhere.

Berserker immediately emitted a rattling purr.

"Okay, I understand you are angry with Kariya - "Harry tried to continue, only for Berserker to interrupt him with a huffed-out agreement. "But in this Grail War, you are his Servant. Did something happen to him for you to come to me?"

Berserker stilled. And then, Harry got a distinct impression that the Mad Servant was _sulking._ Like a little kid who was trying to deny he ate the last slice of chocolate cake.

" _Berry."_ Honestly, Harry felt like a parent, as he exasperatedly glared back at Berserker.

Slowly, and completely reluctantly, Berserker shook his head. The meaning was clear to everyone present.

"You _left_ him." Harry's voice was flat, while Archer tried to muffle his snickers behind his hand.

Berserker looked away with his chin high, as if saying ' _So what? He totally deserved it!'_

"You know he is sick and that he needs you to win that war. For Sakura. And you just _left_ him?" Harry was not happy with the Mad Barnacle's decisions as of late.

There was a small, _guilty-as-charged_ flicker in all that red glare of light, but Berserker remained staunch in his conviction to remain where he was right there and then. Frustrated, Harry mussed his hair. He couldn't comprehend just why had he been scared of Berserker at first. Berry was like a big, armor-clad baby, craving touches, and cuddles, but surprisingly only from Harry. To everyone else, he was still a feral beast at its finest.

"Berry. You _know_ you need to go back to him." Harry tried to be stern. His sanity and his sleep depended on him convincing that stubborn barnacle to return to his rightful Master.

"Besides, the sooner you go to and check on him, the sooner you can come back and cuddle with Harry." Archer chimed in evilly, much to Harry's horror.

"He won't do _anything_ of that sort, mongrel." Gil glared at unreentant Archer before turning his gaze back to Berserker who sub- growled at him. _"Silence_ , dog. If you have any kind of honor left in your maddened mind, begone to your Master. You can either go now, or…" He paused, letting the golden concentric circles appear behind him.

Archer facepalmed.

" That is an _overkill."_ Harry heard Archer mutter in the background. The green-eyed ex-wizard had a sinking feeling that Archer knew just how much of an overkill Gil's pretty little golden circles were, and wasn't that just dandy? _"Or, "Gil_ continued, as if he hadn't heard Archer's interjection, "You could be annihilated, right then and there. _Don't. Test. Me."_

Much to Harry's relief, Berserker decided to forego testing his luck and armor against the ancient King of Heroes, but not without copious amount of puppy dog eyes (how did he _do_ those?) thrown in Harry's direction.

* * *

"This is not good." Tokiomi finally said when the two were away enough to talk in privacy without accidentally becoming targets of the Terrible Three occupying Father Risei's living room.

"What was your first clue?" Father Risei, for once, was not happy. There were three Servants - if one excluded Saber - count them, _three_ and they were unable to do anything else but to sneak away like thieves. The stern priest glared at his adopted son. "You could've warned me." He complained half-heartedly to the young man, only to get a forked eyebrow in return.

"Well, this was as much of a surprise for me as it was for you two. Emiya, we expected to have a Saber, but honestly, Harry exceeded my expectations with having two Servants in his corner, not to mention Gilgamesh's interest in him." Kirei shrugged. "But honestly, I would've expected nothing less of him."

"You mean, this is _normal_ for him?" Tokiomi would never, ever admit, but the man was on the verge of a serious squeak. Kirei glanced at him. His mentor was looking pretty constipated for having his plans for this particular Grail War scrambled so thoroughly. Tokiomi was rubbing the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows scrunched into a frown.

"Normality is overrated for him." Kirei felt his lips quirk in a small smile when both authority figures glared at him, knowing they could do nothing against him. Well, if nothing else, this Grail was would finally become interesting, the young priest thought to himself.

"Probably that's why Gilgamesh is interested in him." Father Risei muttered to himself. "Kirei. What do you know about that red Archer?"

Kirei kept his body relaxed, not giving an ounce just how much the question surprised him. "Not much. There wasn't a chance for me to observe his abilities… though I do remember he handled two swords upon his Summoning."

' _Handling'_ swords was an understatement. Archer painted that room red with the blood of Harry's attackers. But much to Kirei's annoyance, the white-haired gigolo never once shown the true extent of his abilities, no matter Kirei's goading of the Servant on that issue. Kiritsugu knew something, but the Magus Killer was mum on the issue, despite standing on proverbial loggerheads with his 'son'.

"That's unfortunate." Tokiomi scowled with disappointment, apparently having gathered his wits back to himself. "And what about Berserker?" He addressed Kirei, only to be disappointed again when Kirei shook his head.

"It must have been a recent happening, as back then neither you nor Matou didn't have either of your Servants."

"Must have." Father Risei agreed as he sat down on the chair and leaned onto the table, the fingers of his hands intertwined in front of his mouth, his gray eyes thoughtful at this impossible little puzzle. "Zelretch must have been involved somehow... but for what purpose, it's currently unknown. But considering it's him – "the old priest felt a cold shiver skitter up his spine "– It's not anything good. "

Kirei was silent. That bit of information was new to him too. Harry never mentioned that piece of information his three assassin friends before, and why should he? For all Harry knew, Zelretch was an odd, addle-brained doddering old fool with a quirk or two too much to match. But his heart still felt as if something pinched it. He rubbed that spot, but the feeling of that direct pinch remained.

"Emiya knows that you have an Archer now." Father Risei spoke to Tokiomi, who grimaced with dismay. "That was to be expected, but… yes. Unfortunate, really." Tokiomi grumbled. Red Archer having revealed Gilgamesh's identity was a spot of misfortune, even more so because Tokiomi couldn't reign the willful Ancient King in. Everything would've been much more simple if Gilgamesh heeded Tokiomi's… _requests_ , as it were, but that damnable Independent Action of his, along with his over-the-top stats ensured that even snowball had more of a chance to survive in hell than Tokiomi ensuring his orders - more like pleas - would've been heeded like he wanted them to.

"The Magus Killer is also bound to protect Harry." What went unheard, was that Saber would also protect their green-eyed guest. And if that wasn't enough, there was also Berserker to consider. The Mad Servant was for some reason really attached to Harry, to the point one would've thought Harry was his own Master and not Matou.

"Berserker is also a loose cannon. But maybe we can take an advantage of it." Father Risei hummed to himself, thoughts racing through his head in order to make a new plan.

"Kirei's Assassin would be useless here." Tokiomi opposed.

"Not if we used him to dispose of Berserker's Master." Father Risei countered, a ruthless light glinting in his eyes as he stared at Tokiomi.

The Second Master of Fuyuki was silent, mulling over that possibility. It would've been two birds with one stone - killing the Master meant cutting the Servant from the material world - which meant that by getting rid of Matou, they would get rid of Berserker and that would mean Harry would be vulnerable to their attacks.

Unseen to the two schemers, Kirei's half-lidded eyes flashed dangerous gold and misty purple, even when his face remained calm and composed.

* * *

A cheerful humming echoed through the darkened corridors, the sickly-sweet stench of fresh blood clinging to walls and pooling on the already dirtied floor.

" _Hm-m, Hm-m, Hmmmm-hm-hmmm-hm-hmm."_

Whole place was fraught with tension, and as such, happy humming like that was even more jarring juxtaposition to its dreary stage than it would've usually been.

"Are you having fun, Master?" A slickly smooth voice questioned the one who hummed to themselves.

"Of course! It's so fun, even more so now when I have you with me! And you were right, their faces, filled with terror and hopelessness are much more delicious when they are offered but a morsel of home!"

Both voices laughed as if witnessing a good joke instead of taking their delight in misery of innocents.

"Sooo. What do you suggest for our next game?"

A thin smirk accompanied by a shuffle through the ancient book of an unidentifiable book. If one would've seen it, they would've supposed its sheets were made of parchment, but the truth was much more horrifying.

"That book of yours is awesome! Made of human bones, sinews and skin, huh? How I would've _loved_ to witness you making it!" The younger sounding voice said dreamily, like a boy wishing for a very special toy to play with.

The other voice laughed; its owner flattered by the younger's apparent admiration of his masterpiece.

"But of course. Maybe I could show you how to make an ink out of blood, hmm?"

"Hehehe. Oh yes, what a _delicious_ irony that would've been! So, who do you think should we… invite to participate in this delightful activity of ours?"

"But of course. I am partial to young girls; their blood is _especially_ wonderful for this endeavor of ours. Not to mention their faces, so very _delicious_ in their agony…"

* * *

Xanxus was feeling pissed off, at a loss and frustrated.

Pissed off because apparently that Emiya bastard left him to fend all by his lonesome along with the girls, at a loss because of the same reason, and frustrated because he was feeling both pissed off and a loss, two emotions he was wholly unused and ill-equipped to deal with.

They said they were going to register Saber so some kind of a church. Fine, Xanxus could accept that.

They said they would be back soon.

Well _, 'soon'_ has passed by its designated deadline, Xanxus was hungry, and both girls clung to him like … like he was some kind of a teddy bear, and them human-shaped barnacles unwilling to let Xanxus go anywhere.

Iri was silent. Her usually lively garnet-colored eyes were dull, without their happy sparkle hidden within. And that…. Sakuya? Sakura? Whatever - the other lavender-haired girl - and wasn't that a strange color for her hair to be colored in - was similarly blank. Xanxus was pressed between two small girl-shaped walls who didn't really react aside clinging to him whenever he wanted to try and leave bed because for fuck's sake, his bladder was on verge of strangling him anytime now. Or explode on him. Whichever happened first.

Xanxus tried to talk them to let go. Then, threats. And when _that_ didn't help, he moved to swears. In Italian. English. German. Yiddish. Arabic. Russian. Japanese. He even tried to rhyme them, just for the fuck's sakes. Well, any and all he ever heard in his short but colorful life.

"Will you two fucking barnacles let me go anytime ever?"

He huffed at the two girls clinging to him, half-resigned to the inevitable and most importantly inglorious ending of his suffering.

Both girls in question shook their heads.

Xanxus sighed. He hadn't peed in his bed since… _ever_ , he supposed, but this day was obviously destined for him to recreate this particular activity.

He wanted to _end_ his suffering, dammit. However, as if he were under curse, every time he thought he got it, one of the girls moved and fuck any improvements he thought he made.

He was ready to cry blood tears with sheer amount of frustration with the issue. Here he was, ready, willing and able to throw his pride as a man in the deepest ditch he could find, deeper than Mariana Trench, but his own fucking body turned out to be a traitor against his own wishes to relieve his suffering.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing both Saber and Kiritsugu, both of them looking like they had a nice stroll around the park, probably discussing Xanxus' suffering while they were at that..

Xanxus' eyes instantly became filled with fury and mortification when his body finally let go… but at the most inopportune moment ever.

(He honest to God _hated_ those assholes and their surprise entrances.)

" _A PROPOSITO, CAZZO IDIOTI!"_

He howled at the duo, his own voice high and choked between relief and shame when he felt wetness trickle its way in his pants as he shot up and zipped past the confused duo to the loo in the straightest way possible.

Kiritsugu frowned.

"What's wrong with him now?" He asked Saber, who shrugged.

Surprisingly, the one who replied, was Sakura. The dead-eyed girl looked straight into the confused orbs of her part-time minders and announced with her flat soft voice, with Iri nodding her assent.

"He forgot to say ' _please'_."

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Sawada Tsunayoshi, nicknamed Tsuna was infamous in certain circles. Aside being titled Neo Vongola Primo in his later and more famous years he had luck – or misfortune – of knowing some of craziest and strongest people walking this green Earth._

 _Which meant he was forever and ever denied the privilege of normality like any ordinary people experienced it. For him, that phrase – normality - was more of a myth than a unicorn, stranger than fiction and the kind of topsy-turvy any Lovegood worthy of their name would've given their firstborn to experience it themselves even if only for a day._

 _(Normality? What is that? Can it be eaten?)_

 _His ambition of being a robot one day toward reality he was currently living was akin to a small, yapping chihuahua against biggest damn dire wolf ever._

 _Those funky Flames were the_ least _of it. Compared to Shirou and his creepy expanse of a world stuffed with all the swords imaginable - and Tsuna could swear on his life that Shirou was attempting to recreate some scary stuff from Warhammer now - never mind Xanxus and his scary ha - ahem,_ menagerie _of Elements Harry's unofficial son surrounded himself with (Xanxus' girls were bloody terrifying, 'nuff said about them.), and then there were Those Three, commonly annotating one particular priest, a humble math teacher and a…. whatever the last one was - last Tsuna knew was that Shirou's father was some kind of a firearms instructor for Namimori police, but those rumors were never confirmed, and oh god, Waver Velvet._

 _Never piss off Waver Velvet. That was an unwritten, unofficial but always obeyed rule both in Varia, Clock Tower and Vongola. The fools who did… well, let's say Zelretch finally found a worthy competition when coming to retaliation._

 _And then, there was an unassuming green eyes man with messy black hair, faded scar on forehead who was an unofficial father of Xanxus and the rest of those monsters in human guise, leader of Those Three (_ How? _Just…_ How? _The man was so painfully civilian it was absurd, and yet, he was having tea time with Vindice, First Vongola Generation and some weird, ramen-obsessed freak who was teaching Mukuro finer points of Mist manipulation, much to the annoyance of a certain melon head.), and Tsuna's own..._

 _The man was Chaos incarnate, never mind Reborn's attempts to claim the coveted title for himself._

 _Tsuna smiled. True, his life was a mess by any normal standards. There hadn't happened a day when there wouldn't be explosions, some property damage, swears foul enough to make a hardened sailor blush like six-year-old little girl, and so much trouble it was a wonder Tsuna ever managed to finish anything on his to-do list._

 _But as scary as they were, Tsuna wouldn't have traded them for anything in the world._


	70. Chapter 70

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters, yeah, no. Story also has its own life.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Yep, here we are. Had some time, the chapter is longer. _Wheww._ I will have more work at job, but I will try to update as usual, even if the chapters might be a little bit shorter. It's just me or are the chapters becoming shorter the longer the days become?

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **AU**_ on multiple scales, Miserable Alliances in work, Waver is his cranky self (starting early this time), and Xanxus Gets Another One.(Three guesses which one, and the last two don't count.) Oh, and Xanxus got a potty mouth.

* * *

 _ **Dictionary:**_

 _Che cazzo ci fai lì? - What the fuck are you doing_

 _Sei stupido idiota. - you stupid idot_

 _sorellina - little sister_

 _piccola cagna - little bitch_

 _Dio mio - my God_

* * *

 _Will you hold the line?  
When every one of them is giving up or giving in, tell me  
In this house of mine?  
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost, tell me_  
 _Will the stars align?  
Will heaven step in? Will it save us from our sin? Will it?  
'Cause this house of mine stands strong_

( _'Natural'_ by Imagine Dragons)

* * *

Kayneth El Melloi was not a happy Magus. It seemed that ever since someone had stolen his first choice of an artifact for a Summoning he had been doomed for misfortune, because nothing ever went like he wanted it to go.

The replacement artifact had summoned a Lancer. That wouldn't have been so bad, because the Heroic Servant seemed devoted fool enough to carry through all Kayneth's commands - but what did rankle the aristocrat was that his own fiancée didn't even try to hide her attraction to the man.

True, the Servant was… _pretty,_ Kayneth supposed, or, like Japanese said, a _bishounen,_ what with his dark wavy hair and golden eyes and his attire was scandalously tight, more of a wet suit without it being a true wet suit than anything else. To top it all off, the man claimed to be a knight of some sort - and honestly, the only two knight-like things about him were those two spears and his manners.

Despite his Servant's willingness to follow his orders, Kayneth was still displeased about his stats. Lancers were said to have the worst luck of all the Servants, which was… an _inconvenience_ , so to speak.

(Meanwhile, Archer felt a momentary glee at something, but he couldn't really pinpoint at what - but maybe there was some poor bastard out there with worse Luck stats that his own.)

While Kayneth was confident he could put with Lancer's miserable stats in the fight, the only thing that rankled him was that there was absolutely no fight anywhere.

 _No. None. Zip. Nada. Zero._ Kayneth had expected some trouble ever since he had registered his servant with Father Kotomine, but nothing.

They - meaning him, Sola and that pesky Lancer have been in Fuyuki for a week, and there was still no hair or hide of any abnormal activity that would point out the official beginning of the hostilities as it were. Kayneth was half tempted to pick up phone and dial Father Kotomine if the Grail War had officially happened yet, but that would be childish and too below his station.

His Servant at least seemed to finally comprehend Kayneth didn't need to be babied about, what with him discreetly distancing himself away from Kayneth, but that caused another unpleasant consequence - Sola-Ui was not a happy woman what with not having the eye candy of a Servant to look at when the said Servant attended to Kayneth. Or tried to.

And Kayneth still hadn't found out just who was that shitty brat who had insulted him with calling him a … a _'fucking cactus'!_ Every time Kayneth revisited that memory, his blood pressure rose to dangerous heights. Kayneth was used to be shown his respect - be that because he was a noble, or a genius in his field or a Magus of a respectable bloodline. However, there were two glaring exceptions to this rule. One of them was his wayward student with foolish ideas…. Weave or something. Kayneth suppressed his foolish ideas - the child's thesis was frankly improbable - and the second brat was an unknown Master with Berserker tailing him, and even more worrying, listening to his commands.

That Berserker… Kayneth had to suppress a shudder when he remembered the monster in question. That Berserker was just plain monster. Even if it was a Knight, it had to be one of the more known ones, and having been put under Madness Enchantment made it even more dangerous than it had been while sane, a mass of power without any reasoning aside heeding its Master's orders.

There was an unknown Caster with its Master, both of them unregistered as of yet, but probably weak enough to be dealt with in the first wave.

No, what concerned Kayneth more, was the resurgence of Emiya Kiritsugu and his Servant. Ten years ago, if Kayneth memory served him right, the Einzberns contracted Magus Killer to participate in the Holy Grail War on their orders. What followed was a mess the best of Magi was still trying to make heads and tails out of - somehow, Emiya had vanished off the Earth and then reappeared in Fuyuki City just in time for Grail War.

Not that he couldn't have done away with the upstart - because Emiya, for all of his fame was still a half-assed Magus at his best - but him coming back after so long of a time was a cause for being more cautious, if not concern.

Tokiomi had an Archer, the lucky fop, but aside that, Kayneth didn't have much worries about the man. And if remembered Father Kotomine's words right, the one to command Assassin was Kirei, his adopted son.

Rider hasn't been registered yet, which was probably better for the thief in question, because if he had been, then Kayneth wouldn't spare any ounce of mercy in order to absolutely annihilate them.

All Masters and Servants had gathered at the location, like Kayneth observed, but...

No one of them - absolutely _no one_ \- moved to engage the hostilities.

Kayneth felt a vein throb in his temple. If he hadn't known the participant, he would've assumed that they were cowardly fools.

(A certain Tohsaka Clan Head sneezed.)

But they weren't, nor were they that kind of overly cautious to wait for their opponents to come to them.

(Kayneth disregarded to include himself in that category, because it was only normal that those dogs came to him in their pitiful attempts to survive whatever he threw at them. Peasants ought to come to nobility, that was the age-old rule.)

So, it's safe to say Kayneth was fuming.

Not even his little experiment could soothe his anger and being cooped inside wore his patience down even further.

" _Kayneth -!_ " Sola-Ui's voice, which was usually soothing to his overwrought nerves, didn't have that quality right then.

Exhale. Inhale. And to top that shit pile of misery, there was that Alaya-forsaken headache.

"I'm going out."

* * *

Fuyuki was a calm city - aside from unexplainable earthquakes every once in a while.

But Kayneth didn't care about how nice or calm the city in question was. When he stormed out of the hotel, he thought only of getting out of that borderline-claustrophobic place he had willingly shut himself into for a week, and for what?

Nothing.

The walk through the park calmed him somewhat, but Kayneth was still irritated. He was nearing one of the more remote places in the part, dismissing the beggar sitting on the bench as if inconsequential when he tried to deal with all that mess that had happened in that week.

"Sir… can you spare some change for me?" A hoarse voice called out to him, causing Kayneth's eyes to disinterestedly flick in the direction of the voice.

The beggar had called him out. A white-haired, half-blind beggar clad in violet tracks suit with white ribbon on the edge, half of his face deformed and clearly blind on one eye. The beggar was hunched, one of his feet lame but somehow, he still managed to stand up and aim his shameless voice toward Kayneth.

"Scram!" Kayneth was in no mood to play at being magnanimous, especially for such a wretch like this person. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the scent wafting from the beggar - he didn't know why, but it was absolutely disgusting. What the hell was he even doing here, Kayneth fumed. Screw all that glory and fame - Kayneth now sorely regretted allowing himself to being drafted into that madness. Nothing had gone right from the very beginning, and Kayneth sorely wished to be far, far away from the madness in his comfortable lounge in the Clock Tower because there, he knew what he had to deal with, despite a certain toll's presence.

"But sir -!" The man grabbed him by the sleeve, the touch causing Kayneth to shudder with repulsion and he reflexively yanked the restricted arm out of the beggar's grubby hands, only to see the glimpse of that familiar red color - if not lines - on the man's right hand.

"Haven't you heard me for the first time already? I've no patience or pity for you!" He rounded back on the beggar, glaring down on him and…

Yes… There it was.

A red triskelion, on the back of the man's hand - it was there, a strange stigma –

And there was a sharp, point of a blade resting against his stomach as the beggar smirked at him, his other hand squeezing Kayneth's elbow painfully. Kayneth's eyes widened with incredulous fury.

"You dare -!" He growled out, but the previously pitiful beggar smirked at him, an insane light in his eyes, causing Kayneth's to still his body in order to avoid any… stabby incidents.

"Of course, I do; why wouldn't I?" The white-haired man mocked him back, his pale, chapped lips stretching into a mirthless, death-like grin.

Kayneth pressed his lips. He was in an unenviable position - held and with knife pointed at his stomach, not being able to reach for _Volumen Hydrargyrum_ , and the beggar was, despite his feeble appearance, surprisingly strong.

Time stilled.

"What do you want?" Kayneth finally acceded, barely holding back revulsion and fury at having been tricked so easily. Those mismatched eyes gazed into his own, reminding Kayneth once again that he was dealing with a mad dog with no compunction of mercy.

"An alliance."

* * *

Waver Velvet had a headache. The source of the said headache was currently snoring on the futon in front of the TV, happy as you please. Waver glared at the muscled lump on top of the covers with a dead-eyed glare that was even more menacing because of the eye-bags under his eyes. Honestly, Waver swore that he'd rather do the entire paperwork of Clock Tower than deal with this - this man-child of a Rider!

Only his previous extensive experience with dealing with the two brats - read: Xanxus and Iri - enabled him to say no to some of Rider's more outrageous ideas. However, that didn't detract Rider from dragging him to arcades and later, somehow fooling him into buying a playing console and a couple of games dealing with conquering to play on TV.

Much to Waver's horrified chagrin he had been cajoled to participate in that madness, but he at least avoided excessive beer drinking - which he couldn't' say for Rider. The Heroic Spirit in question was practically _addicted_ to the stuff, never mind the after-stench of it wafting through Waver's tiny room. It was an honest wonder Waver's temporary hosts didn't notice anything up to this point.

Kuzuki has vanished off to who-knows-where again, but Waver had a hunch the man had gone off to investigate the other participants in the war, much to Rider's satisfaction. Waver half-mourned losing the only bastion of sanity in the room, but at least Rider wasn't glaring at the gray-eyed man anymore. It was like the red-haired heroic Spirit was jealous of Waver hugging Kuzuki, but that couldn't be it. Waver was an ordinary Magus with no extraordinary talents and his theories were pain in the ass for the Clock Tower inhabitants, as proven with Kayneth's public destruction of Waver's thesis, never mind the thesis alone made more of a sense than half of their stupid blunders in the search of so-called Root of Akasha.

And there was still the fact he was now participating in a war and hunting down Caster with his accomplice. The ritual, in essence, was a simple one, but it still took much of Waver's energy to perform, especially because he had been doing it after Rider finally conked into dreamless sleep, and on the verge of exhaustion. His only saving grace what that he had practiced that ritual for so long he could've done it in his sleep - literally, and now, there was just question of time for the results to pop up.

Suffice to say, Waver was way beyond cranky, even if that was offset with a smidge of relief at the knowledge that at least Kuzuki had survived that disaster and a tiny smudge of hope everyone else was also well - somewhere. And that it was just a question of time for Waver to find them. Unknowingly to Waver, he smiled a small, gentle smile at the thought of meeting his family soon, his face softening from its severe lines.

Rider let out an especially loud snore as he turned from his back to the side.

Waver's face twitched, his previously natural smile turning into its more plastic version and there was a faint murderous aura around the slender teen, all aimed to the unaware man snoozing on the floor.

Where was Tylenol when one needed it?

* * *

The experiment, much to Waver's relief, was a success.

They had Caster's location and the only thing they had to do now was to wait for Kuzuki before heading off to deal with the monster. Of course, Rider was all for just jumping into the situation, but Waver held his ground. Nothing good had ever came from hurrying into a situation one didn't have any information about.

But still… Sewers?

* * *

Sweat trickling down his temple, Xanxus was seething.

Ever since he had brought Iri and this… Sakura home, the two girls were trouble. At first, they clutched to him like girl-shaped barnacles (Xanxus resolutely determined to forget that Episode a day or two back), but then, when they felt safe enough, both because curious monsters that were fed by outside world and its temptations. He didn't know how Waver had been doing this, but right now, the red-eyed boy had a renewed respect for his temporary - if a little bit too big of a crybaby - ex-babysitter. More like a monster-sitter, considering when Xanxus had his eyes on one of the girls, the other sneaked off and then Xanxus has to find the lost culprit ASAP because Iri was honestly an extremely bad influence on that lilac-haired trash he had picked up because his brain suddenly grew a spot of conscience right then and there.

Of course, there was also the fact that Kiritsugu, fuck him very much - didn't have even an ounce of sympathy for Xanxus' woes.

The assassin only looked at him, told him to suck it up, because those two were Xanxus' problem now, and heft him to his own devices while he had gone off to gods knew where.

Whatever had been done to Iri, had caused her to lose the rest of her marbles. The Homunculus was already very clueless of the world to begin with, but this? She was reckless - too reckless in her quest to submerge the bad memories under more pleasant ones. And it didn't help that she was an example for that lilac-haired tra - ahem, Sakura.

The two girls had made a mess out of Kiritsugu's temporary lodgings, and they even managed to entangle some of the feathers into Xanxus' hair when he snoozed - that ought to be the least of their crimes, but somehow, the girls managed to find feathers that were glaringly pink and fluorescent yellow and green - such an eye-watering shades Xanxus would've torn down the moment he registered their existence on his hair, but by luck or chance, Xanxus still hadn't discovered the feathers in his frantic search for those brats who somehow managed to ditch him in order to explore the city.

Cursing Kiritsugu under his breath for millionth time with the most inventive curses he knew, Xanxus sped around another corner, his eyes frantically looking from one corner to another for any clue to where the two girls had vanished off to.

The kind vendor had told him he had seen two girls similar to Iri and Sakura being accompanied by a smiling redheaded young man toward the docks.

And Xanxus… well, Xanxus had a Bad Feeling.

With capitals.

* * *

The sewer was the last place one aquamarine-eyed, pig-tailed little girl would have wished to find herself within.

However, the said little girl didn't really have a choice, what with her friend having been kidnapped there, and as a frie - ahem, future Second Owner of Fuyuki city, Rin held responsibilities very seriously. So seriously that she had sneaked away from her mother in order to find Kotone-chan.

But well, at least she had a compass, crudely-made as it were - what luck that she had gifted Kotone-chan that bangle three days ago – and there were some small rubies in case she needed some extra oomph, and there was also Gandr.

Rin was not one to brag much, but she mastered the Gandr curse in a record short time, so if anyone tried to mess with her, Rin was sure that she could mess with the said bastards back without any problems.

The small girl scrunched her petite nose as she grimaced.

But. Sewers. _Ewww._

Whoever was so stupid as to lead her into them, deserved to be shot with Gandr on principle. Because such stupidity was not allowed to exist in the world.

Grimacing, she cautiously avoided the smelly puddles as she ducked farther into the canal, cautiously following the russet-haired humming young man who led two girls into his evil lair with a creepy smile on his face. Surprisingly, the two girls didn't really object to where they were being led – the just quietly followed him, docile like small lambs. Both were clad in simple dresses - the one with white hair was in a pink dress, when the one with lilac hair was in baby blue one, with small black mary-janes on their tiny feet.

Rin glared at the man. She was sure that whatever this meanie was planning, would be anything but good for those girls. It had been a sheer dumb coincidence that her compass led her to this particular entrance into sewers, and even dumber luck that she spotted the bastard in question to herd his newest soon-to-be victims along into the said entrance.

Briefly, she thought about calling her Papa and demanding him to come here with the Goldie - but on the other side, Kotone-chan may be in even bigger danger if she, Rin hesitated any further.

Rin swallowed.

Time to be brave and heroic and strong like her Papa and… rescue her friend!

She crept closer, careful to not let the Bastard see her.

* * *

Rin tried not to retch.

Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it.

Not the absolute massacre she was confronted with when she came into the main part of the sewer/cave where the kids were held hostage.

The blood. The screams. And corpses. Many, many corpses, most of them of little girls, similar in age to herself. Some lacked eyes. Some lacked their skin, as did the skin in order was just some kind of weird clothes they were divested off, regardless of the suffering they had been in between the process. There were broken bones. Just like broken, unused toys, thrown away when they fulfilled their purpose in amusing their owner.

It was an improvised butcher room, with victims who were still alive dull and unaware to their butcher's doings until it was their turn to suffer under their wicked attention.

Rin's eyes frantically moved from one face to another, searching for one - just one familiar person.

Kotone. Rin couldn't imagine what would she do, if Kotone was dead. It would've been Rin's fault, being so late to their meeting place, and to this day out of all days –

Kotone-chan –

Clenching her teeth, Rin forced herself to close the space, to come closer to this disgusting place, the scent of blood, urine and sewer mixing within her nostrils into a sickening symphony of aromas that dug itself within her brain, causing her eyes to water and limbs to tremble.

"A Magus always walks with death." She often heard her Papa say so, but she didn't believe…. But if that was death, then she didn't want that, never!

She saw those dolls the bastard had led in, lifeless and finally, she saw their faces.

The white-haired girl had red eyes, like garnets, but the lilac-haired one practically stopped Rin's breath in tracks.

 _ **Sakura.**_

* * *

Dark gray eyes narrowed as he vanished into the shadows once again.

The prey was clever - but not clever enough for an assassin of such a caliber as he.

He as tempted - oh so temped - to just wring the smiling jester's neck the most painful way he knew how, but all in a given time.

His steps were noiseless when he let himself into the hidden place, only for a familiar sickening smell almost physically kicking him into nose, the ground soaked with blood and all those tiny corpses strewn around like broken flowers.

There was a small movement among the still living ones, pinning his eyes to the cause.

It was a small pony-tailed girl with aquamarine eyes. She looked a bit greenish in the face, like she was about to hurl, but he couldn't help but be impressed that she was courageous - more like suicidal enough - to come here.

She wasn't under the thrall like all others aside the victims were, which was both good and bad.

There was another movement, and searing flash of pink and … fluorescent yellow and green?

A boy.

Another one?

But it seemed that this one wasn't in cahoots with the girl –

* * *

She had been waiting for what seemed an eternity until the two murderers left the room.

Only then did Rin relax a little, or as much one could be relaxed among blood and corpses, having witnessed the torture and murder first hand.

" _Che cazzo ci fai lì?"_ A harsh young voice whispered into her right ear, and Rin just about screamed if a rough, but small palm hadn't been slapped onto her mouth before she could utter the smallest noise.

All thoughts of being cautious flew out of her head as she jerked around, looking into eyes of a boy, a little bit older than her - taller too, but Rin wouldn't admit that, nuh-uh - who glared at her, glowing ... pink? Yellow? Ang fluorescent green? Feathers being braided into the side of his hair.

" _A-aah?!"_ She squeaked out, only to slap her hands on the top of boy's hands still covering her mouth, her eyes wide with mortification.

" _Sei stupido idiota._ This is dangerous: what the hell were you _thinking!?"_ The boy continued hissing at her as he harshly yanked her into the back of the butcher room, straight between the corpses and if he hadn't still held his mouth shut, Rin would've screamed with horror at being plunged into the mass of lifeless flesh and bones.

Glaring at the boy, she licked his palm, causing him to emit a disgusted sound as he hurriedly wiped the palm she had licked into the blood-soaked trousers. Rin couldn't help but make a face at him - such a barbarian. Rin kept her hygiene, thank you very much, and yet the boy acted like his hand had been licked by a rabid dog!

"I came to save Kotone-chan!" She growled back, incensed, before her shoulders slumped as she thought of her unexpected discovery. "A-and my sister." She mumbled, biting her lip.

The boy sneered. _"Great_ going, genius." He spat out, those red eyes looking at her derisively. "All you've done is to make a _shit_ out of my rescue operation."

Rin stilled.

"Ex- _cuse_ me? You and what army?" She hissed back like an incensed wild cat, her aquamarine eyes looking into the boy's strange ones, and she barely held herself back from hitting him with _Gandr_ point blank range. Only for her to be roughly pushed back out and dragged to the exit by the scruff of her clothes as if she were an unruly puppy.

"You are _not_ excused." The boy bit out, while his red eyes Rin looked into the moment the boy plopped her down on the blood-soiled floor were... becoming even redder? What the actual _fuck?_

"Are you a vampire? In that case, I am not letting you have Kotoko-chan!" She grabbed him by the wrist, ready, willing and able to use _Gandr_ if needed be.

"I am not a vampire, doofus. I just came for _sorellina_ and the trash!"

Rin stubbornly stood her ground. "Oh, yeah. You and what army, hero?" She mocked him, sticking her tongue out at him. He may have scared her out og her wits scant moments before, but Rin was a Tohsaka, and Tohsakas always kept calm and were ahead of their adversaries, Or at least that was what her Papa was telling her.

The boy huffed. "I ain't fuckin' needing any!" He growled at her, baring his teeth like wild animal.

Rin was now even more sure that the boy was in fact a vampire. His canines, long as they were, didn't help the picture.

Growling, she lifted her leg and stomped onto his foot.

 _Hard._

* * *

This _piccola cagna_ was infuriating!

Xanxus clenched his teeth as not to yelp out with pain, but his glare at the girl intensified. He sorely wanted to strangle the girl. At least that way he could've just get Iri and Sakura and the rest of it was Not His Problem. Xanxus knew he was tottering the line on the dangerous side, and any small mistake on his side could've resulted in him being dead and the girl being tortured and killed. Oh, he could've taken that red-haired creepo, but his partner was giving Xanxus hives... and not in a good sense of the word.

And now, because of _piccola cagna,_ everything had become complicated... much much more complicated than Xanxus had expected it to be.

Hearing footsteps, he yanked the girl by the front of her clothes and pushed her - once again - into the heap of corpses, silently gleeful at her quiet choke at having to deal with blood, smells and cold of the said corpses.

That creepy psycho entered first, laughing at something the other psycho told him.

And Xanxus was still standing and at any moment, he would be discovered and then everything would go to shit.

Fuck his fucking luck. Why was that whenever he had to save a chick his fortune suddenly did a nosedive?

But he had to act, and act now.

Xanxus didn't think. Clenching his fists, he ignited the claws and jumped, aiming for the creepy psycho's ribs.

But he was way too small, and those voluminous robes caused him to misjudge the correct location, resulting in the glowing claw tips scratching at the creepy psycho and tear those robes with a satisfying _riiiip_.

For a moment, everything stilled as the two psychos looked at their unintended and definitely uninvited guest, with the creepy psycho reaching for his ribs –

But Xanxus was already aiming for the creepy psycho's knees kicks - were good for that kind of shit, only for the creepy psycho to dodge.

"Oh, Master Uryuu, didn't think you prepared such a nice surprise for me?" The creepy psycho said, laughing as if Xanxus' claws hadn't caused even an iota of damage.

The red-haired psycho laughed, clapping his hands. "Oh, my, no. But wonderful! I must remember that one, it surely livened up the day, didn't it, Caster?"

Xanxus' jaw twitched. He was used to be ignored and ridiculed, but those two... for some reason, Xanxus wanted to rip them apart, limb by limb.

"Hey, little boy! You sure surprised up, so I think that deserves a reward, hmm? Would you like one?" The red-haired psycho - Uryuu - called out, soulless dark eyes squinting with delight at Xanxus' scathing glare at his person.

"Yay, how _nice._ Now die already, will you?" Xanxus deadpanned before he faked an attack to the right side of the creepy psycho, only for the said psycho to skillfully dodge despite his voluminous robes.

Uryuu hummed as he stepped back, allowing his Heroic Spirit of a Servant a little bit of harmless fun. Pausing, Xanxus glared at the psycho duo, calculating who to attack next.

"Hmm, not so nice now, are you?" The psycho chuckled. "You have good moves, but you forgot something…."

"Hostages – "Uryuu sing-songed as he carelessly grabbed a girl out of the whole bunch, her mellow brown eyes wide with terror while her cute yellow dress was almost completely stained with cooled down blood.

"Kotone-chan!" A voice Xanxus was fast approaching to loathe sounded behind him and there was a red light streaking toward Uryuu, hitting him on the head, causing him to wobble and let the girl go.

Xanxus didn't need to turn around to know that _piccola cagna_ just exposed herself as another extremely tempting target to the psychotic duo in front of him. Hell, if it weren't for Iri and the small trash, Xanxus would've cheerfully murdered the nuisance himself!

Only, Kotone was petrified and hyperventilating with fear, shivering at the groaning man's feet, not daring to move anywhere on the blood-soaked ground.

"Good going, bitch. I've had them on the ropes." Xanxus spat to his unwanted helper.

Rin, pale and shaking as she was, glared back at him. If looks could kill, Xanxus would've had his funeral thrice over by now, just from her looks alone.

Amused, Uryuu's eyebrows rose at the revelation of the boy's additional baggage. _"Ho?_ Trouble in paradise? Say it's not so!" he fake-gasped, and both he and Caster laughed with delight.

"But that just isn't fair, you know, and because your little wife is so pretty, there ought to be a pet, don't you agree?" Uryuu's smirk was all kinds of unholy. "Caster, if you would?"

"But of course, master Uryuu. All for your entertainment." Caster purred out and then conjured something straight out of the nightmares.

The beast was dark, darker than black, with gleaming white teeth and red slits for eyes, more of a smoke than substance as it grinned at Xanxus and Rin with perverse delight of one that knows it's about to be fed a yummy, screaming, suffering meal.

"You sure you vaccinated it first?" Xanxus' mouth was on a roll as he mentally prepared to unleash the Flames at the beast. "Because I've heard rabies aren't exactly in fashion anymore."

Caster scowled at Xanxus' trash talk as he nodded for the strange beast to attack the boy.

The beast smiled even wider and lunged, only to meet Xanxus' Flame-entrenched claws, causing it to screech with pain and retreat for a moment, eyeing its newest opponent cautiously.

Xanxus' grin was not kind. Sure, he had Flames for three such shots before he would be out, but he acted like he could go to infinity and beyond.

 _Bluff._ The longer he could bluff, the better the chances.

What chances, he didn't know.

"I-I think he is right. It's not cute and it doesn't have a ribbon!" Rin piped up, huffing - still pale and dirty with blood of the slain corpses she had been hidden within, but ready, willing and able to continue. She already prepared another _Gandr_ to fire, even if her hands were shaking so much, she couldn't really aim straight at the monster hovering in front of her.

Caster chuckled. It was a slow, sinister chuckle. _"Why_ , little girl. Didn't your mother teach you to accept the gifts given to you with gratitude?" He shook his head, as if disappointed in Rin's unruly behavior. "Tsk, tsk. Don't blame me for disciplining you, but your horrible manners. What an awful guest - "

He raised his hand, only to be interrupted when Uryuu unwillingly surged forward as something caused the young murderer to scream with pain when his ribs were broken through by a hard blow from the back.

Bulging black eyes widened with panic "Master Uryuu – !" Caster called out, as he stepped forward, his eyes already searching for the culprit only to be confronted with a glowing greenish blue blade snapping his neck, causing the monster to emit a painful shriek as it disappeared into nothingness.

Caster's tall frame crumbled onto the ground, changing into the motes of muddy black light that slowly dissipated within the semi-darkness of the room.

Flat dark grey eyes looked at pale boy who stepped two steps back when he saw their savior emerge out of the shadows like a human-shaped wraith.

"This is going on your ' _Do Not Do It Again'_ list, Xanxus." The assassin's voice was barely above whisper, but Xanxus heard it loud and clear, as if someone spoke it right next to his ear. Rin watched the duo, fascinated. The boy - Xanxus now, as she found out his name was, practically _cringed_ at the man's casual voice while just scant moments before, he was standing against insurmotable odds behaving like little shit he was.

The man in front of her was ordinary looking, and thus easily forgettable one, for some reason - and then, she knew nothing.

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

 _Sawada Iemitsu was many things. A dedicated subordinate, maybe even too much of a dedicated one - a foolish superior, air-headed father and maybe devoted husband to one Sawada Nana._

 _He rarely came home, even if he did support his tiny family of two financially, so he didn't really know the toils and trouble his son had to overcome in his absence._

 _His subordinates' reports were few and far between, mostly droning one and the same – Sawada Tsuna was healthy, if a bit under average in school, not very sociable and disinclined to reach out to anybody._

 _Really, the reports ought to be the first warning sign that something was afoot_

 _But nothing could've spelt a big You Fucked Up sign more clearly than when Tsuna casually kissed Nana on her cheek, and told her that he was going to visit Xanxus' parents, with Nana gently laughing at him and acknowledging his intentions with fond approval that was borne of long familiarity with this small ritual, undoubtedly done over and over for many times._

… _wait,_ what.

 _Iemitsu-exe crashed. And then rebooted. And after a couple of crashes and reboot failures, it finally began to work._

" _Dear…" Iemitsu cautiously asked his darling wife, who was cheerfully humming a small ditty when she nursed a coffee cup in her hands - and since when did Nana out of all people drink coffee?_

" _Yes, darling?" Nana practically beamed at him._

" _These…" Iemitsu tried. "You know, Xanxus' parents. What are they like?"_

'And did they really _have_ to name their own son after Xanxus?'

 _Nana smiled. "Why, dear, they are extremely kind and understanding! It was such a shame that they lost their son for such long time…" Nana put her hand on her cheek, as she scrunched her eyebrows with sympathy. "Father Kotomine is a priest and last I've heard he is teaching Tsuyoshi's son some sword techniques - that's so kind of him! And there's Kuzuki-sensei - did I mention to you how he uncovered Nezu-sensei for falsifying his records? My, that was a such a scandal, you know! And there is Emiya Kiritsugu – "Iemitsu just about choked the air when he found out the infamous freelancer was living in the same lazy town than his son._

" _Wait!" Iemitsu hurriedly interrupted Nana. "Are you_ sure _he is called Emiya Kiritsugu?"_

 _Cluelessly, Nana blinked and nodded her head. "But of course! He even has a son, Emiya Shirou - "_

'Dio mio. That devil has his own hell spawn now!?" _Iemitsu shrieked with terror in the middle of his empty head. Outside, he pasted a happy, if a little tense smile on his face._

" _And oh, I almost forgot Harry! He is simply a darling man - if I hadn't already married you, why, I would've gone after him!" Nana chirped out happily, unaware just what kind of mess was she causing to her darling husband's three views._

" _Oh?" Iemitsu couldn't do anything else but to squeak out that tiny enquiry._

" _Well, he's Xanxus' father, of course. He has other children, too, but they are really one big, happy family." Nana couldn't help but sound a wee bit jealous when she told Iemitsu that little fact._

 _Mentally, Iemitsu couldn't help but imagine many mini-Xanxuses crowding the faceless kind man, all with their red eyes, black hair and fearsome scowls on their faces. He couldn't help but shudder with horror. One of them was already more than enough, thank you very much!_

" _Of course, if you say so, darling." He attempted to smile a weak smile, but it came out more of a grimace than anything. "But that name, Xanxus…"_

 _Nana beamed. "I heard Xanxus kept it in memory of his deceased mother. He's such a nice, sensitive boy, don't you think so?"_

 _Iemitsu thought back to his recent meeting with the said_ 'sensitive, nice boy'.

 _No wine bottles or glasses were spared their sad demise against a wall or floor… or against someone unlucky_ idiota _'s head. There were also curses in different languages, scorching enough to ignite air, and yep, copious violence._

 _Sensitive? Nice? What was that? Could it be eaten?_

" _Yeah…" He quickly lied. "I have a colleague with the same name, so I thought he had some family over here."_

 _Nana blinked. "Well, maybe. His whole name is Xanxus Gabriel Potter-Kotomine."_

" _Oh, and Tsuna is their honorary son." Nana fairly beamed at him, proud of their little baby tuna-fish for learning to swim in the proverbial pond along such piranhas._

 _Iemitsu fainted._


	71. Chapter 71

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the characters or the song. Well, that's it.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ I enjoyed writing that one, even if the beginning was a little bit harder than usual. Xanxus is a mess, Harry is a mess and it's bound to get even messier. _Mwahaha._ Rabbit holes without rabbits, but we have Heroic Spirits, so that ought to be a good compensation anyhow… _Ahem_. _/embarrassed cough/_

 _ **Warnings:**_ AU on multiple scales, Xanxus Is Trouble, Harry is Unintentional Trouble, Kuzuki Joins The Bandwagon. Not beta-read. / _tears of despair_ /

* * *

 _One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small  
And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all_

 _Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall_

 _And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall  
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call_

 _And call Alice, when she was just small_

(' _White Rabbit'_ , by Jefferson Airplane)

* * *

Xanxus knew he was screwed from the get-go ever since he had seen that ghost - ahem, Kuzuki - appear in front of him telling him that his latest shenanigan would also the last in that venue for foreseeable future.

But in his defense, anyone would've been scared out of their pants if they had Kuzuki drop on them, unannounced and thus wholly unexpected. In Xanxus' case, the scare was also compounded via Kuzuki being even taller than before (seriously, what the fuck was the man _eating?_ ), pale as a ghost and boring his dark, empty eyes into Xanxus' ones as if he wanted to drill a hole into Xanxus' skull via his stare. Not that the stare was angry or anything. It was…unnervingly emotionless, dull and thus all the scarier for it.

So, it was a small relief when they - meaning Xanxus and Kuzuki - met a huge red-haired and bearded man with booming voice who was apparently attracted to this atrocity of a slaughter via his following own companion.

Or… maybe _not,_ considering Xanxus got another shock when he had seen Waver. Taller, surlier, less of a crybaby Waver who was apparently the Master of that behemoth of a man.

But of course, it hadn't ended there.

"What the hell were you even _thinking?"_ Waver glared at sulking Xanxus, taking a small delight in being even taller than the red-eyed boy ever since their first meeting. Both Kuzuki and Rider tactfully retreated, with the excuse of helping surviving victims getting out of the hell they had unknowingly been led into by Caster's Master. Green eyes glared at Xanxus' mulish face even harder when the latter one didn't deign to answer Waver. "Actually, don't answer. You weren't thinking at all." Waver bit out, completely fed up with the situation he had found himself in.

Xanxus glared back at Waver, trying and failing to muster up the energy to talk back at his ex-nanny. He was dirty, this sickeningly cloying scent of blood still clinging to the insides of his nostrils and he was out of gas and consequently out of all the fucks to give. While he was semi-happy to see Waver, his main priority after surviving Kuzuki's re-appearance in his life (or soon to be lack of it,) was to find a hot shower, clean clothes and then a spot to snooze for at least three days. Flame Claws, while in theory easily executable, were a wholly another song and dance when one tried to use them in practice.

Belatedly he felt Waver to grab him by his shoulders and shake him.

 _Hard._

"You utter, fucking _bastard._ " Waver hissed into his face, looking like an enraged panther. "Do you even _know_ how long have I searched for all of you? And then, you have the guts to show up there, and mess things up even worse than they already were!"

Xanxus opened his mouth to refute Waver's accusations, but no word came past his lips.

It was true. He had messed up. He had messed up when he had gone to save Iri and ended saving the other brat - _it_ \- only by the grace of sheer dumb luck and Kiritsugu coming in that they hadn't burned along with that blue-haired psycho.

If he had been more careful then the girls wouldn't have been kidnapped - _again_ \- and Xanxus wouldn't have had that stupid, _idiotic_ idea to go after them - without any kind of support, mind you, because yeah, he was in _mafia,_ he knew how to deal with things, so this ought to be a piece of cake, too - and almost ended as a shish-kabob plaything of some sicko who enjoyed torturing little girls for his own amusement.

He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth started to hurt. "I _know._ " Xanxus' tone was flat, lifeless. His mind replayed those bloody scenes in his mind, again and again, and what could've happened if -

* * *

Waver paused. As furious as he was with the idiotic brat in front of him, even he had known that something was very wrong. Xanxus was usually lively, cursing upside down, troublemaker, so it was disconcerting to Waver to see him so listless. Even more alarming were the bloodstains on his clothes, hinting to Waver that he _didn't_ want to know whatever trouble Xanxus had gone to find himself in this time.

Sighing, he shook his head and drew Xanxus to himself into a hug, ignoring the stiffening of the boy's slender body against his own. Slowly, almost painfully so, Xanxus relaxed in Waver's embrace, even burrowing deeper in.

There were hurried steps behind him, causing Waver to turn his head in their direction.

The first person was a blonde-haired woman clad in a business suit and the second one - Waver frowned at first, because the man's face was familiar to him and then, he made a sound that was a cross between a horrified squawk and outraged screech. _"Y-You!"_ He pointed at the man, shell-shocked with surprise.

The man frowned, before his face brightened with recognition. "Little Waver?" He asked, shoving whatever weapon he was half from pulling out of his coat back into the coat pocket.

"I am _not_ little!" Waver scowled at the man, not even conscious of still holding Xanxus in a half-hug. "What the _hell_ are you doing here? If you wanted to save Xanxus, then you are _shit_ outta luck." He scowled at the assassin, not knowing whether to be happy to see him hearty and hale or angry enough to personally wring his neck.

(Not that he _could've_ harmed Kuzuki, but oh well, it's the thought that counts, isn't it?)

Kiritsugu waved the blonde woman beside him to go ahead while he frowned at the fuming Waver. "Xanxus? What - ?"His gaze stopped at the bundle Waver was still protectively hoarding against himself.

Groaning with dismay, Kiritsugu rubbed his face tiredly. "This is _bullshit._ The brat is even bigger danger magnet than Harry, and believe me, this is hard to top." He exhaled, shaking his head, exasperated before he explained further.

"I was searching for the brat and Iri because they sneaked out, even knowing damn well the city is currently a warzone. I assume you found them?" Kiritsugu glared at Waver.

Waver could only nod cautiously. This kind of Kiritsugu was alien to him - more tired and weary and in no mood for bullshit. And Waver didn't particularly fancy a bullet between his eyes. Those dark, soulless eyes zeroed on Waver's hand right onto those blood red lines decorating the back of it. The Assassin connected the dots faster than Waver could hide his hand and make some kind of bullshit story of it, as evidenced by his next question aimed at Waver.

"Which Servant do you have?"

Waver froze. This was a Magus Killer - Waver had heard stories about him in the Clock Tower, how the man rampaged among the Magi society, killing whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves in his To Kill list. Despite Waver knowing Kiritsugu, the green-eyed teen thought the stories about his more… _infamous_ exploits to be a myth, something to scare kids into being obedient at night. Kiritsugu never acted like Magus Killer in that time they spent together with Harry and their friends in Italy. Waver remembered him only as a temperamental teen on the verge of being a young man, who more often than not had some kind of a tiff with Kirei, and on rare chances a strict instructor to Xanxus in the art of gun-wielding. But right now, standing here, faced with Kiritsugu in front of him - no, not Kiritsugu, but _Magus Killer_ \- Waver was frozen stiff with terror.

"R-Rider. " The word tumbled past his lips almost without his own permission. "A-and yours?"

He saw Kiritsugu pause in his advance toward him. "Saber." The taller man replied. "And I assume you were tailing Caster and his Master?"

Waver grimaced at being reminded of this particular task. "Yeah, _no_." He grumbled. "I've located them via presence of the mana in the soil and some searching ritual, but it seems we were too late. _Again._ " He added sourly.

"Again?" Kiritsugu's voice was soft and casual, dark eyes glancing at Xanxus' form still huddling against Waver.

"Xanxus did it." Waver nodded at the half-snoozing child in his hold.

Kiritsugu paused. "You mean, he _destroyed_ them?" Kiritsugu's voice was completely unemotional, as if that didn't surprise him at the slightest. Maybe it didn't, considering Xanxus' rather elaborate penchant for destruction in all scales.

"He delayed them, along with that little girl." Came a voice behind Waver's back, causing Waver to jerk and whip his head around to the source of the voice. Viridian colored eyes widened with second surprise of the day.

" _Kuzuki!"_ Waver's yelped-out identification of the newcomer was correct. This was Kuzuki, carrying a small girl, clad in white blood-spattered shirt and red skirt. Her long black hair was in messed up twin ponytails at the sides of her face, creating a stark contrast to the unconscious pallor of her skin.

"Xanxus." The tall bespectacled assassin called out to the half-conscious boy in Waver's surprise-slackened hold. "Come here."

Woodenly, Xanxus complied with Kuzuki's order, his previously dulled out eyes brightening a little when he saw the man's tiny burden. Kuzuki knelt down, and without beckoning, Xanxus shuffled forward cautiously, as if unsure of what Kuzuki had in store for him next.

"Take care of her." Gently, Kuzuki transferred the tiny girl to Xanxus' arms. Causing the boy's exhausted eyes to harden with resolve as he gave him a firm nod.

The grey-eyed assassin then stood up and looked at Kiritsugu. "There were casualties, but both Caster and its Master are dead. I took care of that." The man's voice was soft monotone, nothing betraying his feelings about witnessing that horrendous scene in the rooms behind him.

"You followed them?" Kiritsugu queried as he moved past the now silent Waver and Xanxus with the little girl to look into the den of depravity those two monsters had created. Kuzuki joined him in his trek, both continuing their conversation.

"Had the misfortune of happening upon them when I was searching for Harry." Cool gray eyes flicked sideways to dead black ones. "If we are here, there's a high chance he landed in that time, too."

Kiritsugu couldn't help but grimace. "Yeah. Believe it or not, he landed with _Matou_ of all people, and now he is an unofficially official adopted little brother of Tohsaka's Archer, Gilgamesh."

Kuzuki halted. Turning around, he looked at Kiritsugu, his own eyes involuntarily widening with surprise at this bit of unexpected news. "Wait. What? _Adopted_ little brother? Since _when_ do Heroic Spirits adopt normal people as their little brothers?" He asked, baffled.

Helplessly, Kiritsugu shrugged. "Since they are Harry? I honestly don't know how that happened, either." He shook his head, exasperated with the situation as a whole.

Kuzuki nodded. "And you are fine with it?" He queried, knowing the answer even before Kiritsugu opened his mouth.

Kiritsugu shot him a sour look. "Saying that I am fine with it… is stretching it a little too far. But when you are faced with Gate of Babylon, the statement is as good as clad in iron." He grumbled, still grumpy with his experience of meeting Gilgamesh for the first time. "Still, I would've preferred that brute of a Berserker, even if he is a crybaby who whines for Harry to cuddle him."

They reached to the doors that led to the scene of the slaughter, the scent of blood wafting out of the space within.

Saber was pale but determined when she hustled the rest of the children out of it, along with the red-haired giant - no, Rider.

Mutely, both assassins joined the Heroic Spirits in taking care of the children, ignoring the gore within the room with the ease borne of long practice.

* * *

Harry was restless. There was practically nothing to do where he was right now - Archer had snatched all the cooking duties away from him, Tokiomi and Father Kotomine were huddled in Father Kotomine's working room, Gilgamesh was out on one of his outings yet again, Kirei was on one of his secret errands for Father Kotomine and Harry was bored! Heck, he would've welcomed even Berserker, if only to have some company, despite Berserker's penchant to cuddle him.

He was forbidden to go out. There was practically nothing interesting to read, there was no television and there were only so many times Harry could clean the church before becoming thoroughly sick with the task.

Fed up with being confined and nothing interesting to do, Harry decided to sneak out. If luck would be on his side, maybe he would bump into Dia and wheedle him into going with him to explore the town.

Apparently, Lady Luck was feeling benevolent enough to let Harry his little slice of freedom.

Harry still felt uncomfortable without having a passport on his person, but if nothing else, he could bluff it until he made it. Besides, if Archer, in all of his overly beach-bunny tanned glory could fade in the background of this town, there ought to be no reason Harry couldn't have, either.

It was a little bit uncomfortable, strolling around without any passport on his person, but Slytherins had a good saying for that kind of occasion - ' fake it 'till you make it' - and Harry had had enough of practice of that particular wisdom even before Hogwarts.

He set to prowl through the city, not having any destination in mind aside strolling around wherever his whims led him.

The town was a lazy one, and nobody would've known that it was the epicenter of the fights for a mythical cup of glory among the magic - oops, prana wielding humans. But that was what it was - if one didn't look underneath the underneath, and even then, they had to be special kind of special to get entangled in that sort of things.

Harry smiled a wry smile when he thought of his situation. Ten years into the future, and in different country to boot - whatever was that ritual they had been drawn to and thrown through, it wasn't something anyone could do on a whim. But it was all the more worrying that a ritual on such a scale could be effectively hidden from any other living being aside the ones participating in it.

He raised his right hand, looking and all the little groves and shapes of his palm, the form of his fingertips, feeling how it clenched and relaxed on his command.

It was strangely bereft of the wand and even knowing that with time, he could reproduce the effect of spells wandlessly, Harry felt inexplicably vulnerable.

Being shoved into so many worlds at once - the wizarding one, then the Magi and mafia one - was confusing and irritating at the best of times, never mind the times when Harry felt the overwhelming urge to just throw his hands up and leave everything behind. Somehow.

But on the other hand, he also felt better. Maybe not stronger, but better. Lack of Dursleys, wizarding idiots and all the magic-made mess he was usually tasked to deal with was freeing. Harry didn't know just how confined he had been by the well-meaning 'adults' in the wizarding world, until he stepped outside of their influence. Briefly, he thought of Hermione and Ron. How were they doing? Will they still be each other's friends, what without Harry being the glue of their little group? He felt a twinge of guilt for just upping and leaving, without telling them anything about his plans. He should have written them at least a letter or two -

Bemused, he shook his head at his thoughts. Here he was, ten years in the future, in a completely different country, and he was thinking about sending them a letter.

How _absurd._

But his life up until now was full of absurdity. Wizards, mafia and now what? Holy Grail? Chuckling to himself, Harry shrugged. Well. at least there wasn't any way for him to be bored, that was for certain.

He mentally cringed at the thought what his self-proclaimed _'caretakers'_ would do to him if they ever found out about his little expedition into the town. While he was happy to reunite with both Kiritsugu and Kirei - Archer had been an unexpected bonus - he still couldn't help but worry for Xanxus, Iri and Soichiro.

Judging by Kiritsugu's exasperated grumblings, Xanxus was still as bratty as ever, and Harry looked forward to seeing him again. Him and Iri, once Iri recovered from her ordeal. Or if he managed to wheedle Kirei or Archer into accompanying him to Kiritsugu's temporary residence.

The town was calm, with people talking, laughing and walking or driving about in order to do their business. It was strangely similar to the scene in Italy, if not for the different background and faces - and let's not forget the language - one would've thought that they were in some hometown in their country.

So very different, yet still the same in some respects.

Smiling, Harry bundled himself in his jacket even tighter. The air was cold already, causing him to unconsciously shiver when the wind ruffled his hair. From the hottest of summer days to the onset of winter. It was hard to accept the time difference at first - ten years ahead, and then different season. Bemusedly, Harry mused that he ought to be grateful for England's semi-perpetually sour weather.

Eventually, his feet led him to the park where he met Dia. The place was lively, with children playing here and elderly talking and laughing around a chess table placed in front of the nearby cafe.

It was as if that night when he tried to Summon Archer hadn't really happened. Even the place where he made the Summoning Circle looked ordinary no, without even a trace of blood on the ground.

As if that time was just a dream, created by his fevered mind.

But, looking at the Seal on his hand, Harry knew it was all to true, a powder keg waiting to explode in their faces. Harry sobered, frowning. He didn't like the fact that both of his friends were essentially enemies in that stupid War.

People died in wars. Harry's eyes dulled and his heart ached as he briefly remembered Cedric. Cedric, who was innocent bystander, but still an unfortunate victim of the 'war' between Light and Dark back there in England. The previously cheerful surroundings were entwined in sinister edges of shadows and Harry felt sick when something heavy draped itself - himself, more like, across his shoulders.

" _Massteeerr…_ You ought to be more _careful,_ ya know." A familiar voice drawled into his ear as bare, two black and deep purple-inked arms wrapped in black bandages wreathed themselves around his shoulders.

"You _again?_ " Harry knew it. He knew that his bout of luck was too good to last. The mass on his back was warm and human-shaped, but unnervingly scentless.

"Of course, me again, _Maaasssteeerr."_ The entity on Harry's back pouted. "We didn't finish our little _chat,_ after all. An' 'sides, I gotta thank ya for yer lil' gift. Even if it hurt at first - well, it's good to see the world again, filthy as it is."

Harry's vision swam, and he tasted blood in his mouth when the entity slunk around him, until he was confronted with darkly tanned skin, marred by strange glyph-like tattoos and clothed in tattered red waist cloth, with same colored bandanna twined around his head. Golden eyes flashed from under mess of black hair as the entity crouched in front of him, like an obedient dog, the waist cloth fanning around him in a half-circle, revealing shins wrapped in black bandages and bare feet.

Panicked, Harry glanced around, but the entity grasped his chin between its fingers. It - he, really, because it wore a male form right now - tut-tutted at him. " _Tsk._ _Maasterrr,_ so _mean._ Don't worry, they don't see me right _now,_ you can be at ease. But well, if you wish so, I _could_ become corporal." The entity's - thing's - voice became strangely coquettish, it's strange, warbling voice ending in a questioning lilt.

"Yeah, no _. Not_ happening." Harry deadpanned. "Because me talking with you is just _normal,_ isn't it?" He snarked at the entity that giggled with amusement in return, apparently amused with his little show of defiance.

"But of course. We are all mad in the head, innit?" The entity beamed at him and Harry got a sinking feeling that if Berserker saw this, Harry would be Doomed with capital D.

Harry's shoulders slumped. Well, here goes another sermon, he just knew it. He mentally shuddered at the thought of Kirei preaching him yet _again_ and even worse - _teaming up_ with Kiritsugu again. Last time was bad enough, thank you very much.

"Perhaps" He looked into those strange golden eyes, determinedly avoiding sneaking glances at that pointy smile. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" He queried the entity that blinked at him, and if possible, its smile became even wider, reminiscent to a slasher's grin.

' _Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.'_ Harry resigned himself. If he had to go down that particular rabbit hole, he would damn well make sure he had all the info about it he could get.

"Of course, Maaasterrr. How _nice_ of you to ask little old me for my name, yah." The entity's teeth were white and unnervingly sharp. Like knives. Or shark teeth. "But… Avenger at your service." He made a semi-bow - or as much of a bow he could execute when he was crouching in front of Harry's knees. "Nice ta meet ya in flesh and bone."

Harry barely had the time to comprehend Avenger's words before yelping with surprise when Avenger launched at him, the entity jumping into his lap, it's legs around Harry's hips and its' arms wound themselves - once again - around Harry's neck causing Avenger to look like some kind of a wrathful, hairless koala.

" _A - Avenger!"_ Harry spluttered, not minding people looking at him with confusion on their faces.

Avenger hummed, and his low, barely heard hum sounded like screams of anger and torture and old, rusty chains wrapped within mocking laughter and bitter tears of despair. " _My, my,_ Maasterr, so very _scared,_ ain't ya? Of people's eyes on you. Of what would they _think_ , looking at you sitting like _that._ Well, don't worry, yer still sane. Saner than _them,_ at any rate." Avenger scoffed with disdain when a pair of schoolgirls hurriedly walked past Harry, carefully avoiding him as if he were a leper, their faces marred with confusion, unease and a hint of disgust.

Bending forward, Avenger nibbled on Harry's ear, gently nicking the fragile skin here and licking the drop of blood welling onto the surface from the tiny wound. "But that's _humanity_ for ya." He concluded as he nuzzled into Harry's neck with his face, Harry sitting on the bench still like a board.

"But ya… ya smell like _animal._ Like snakes and birds. Strange, innit?"

Harry made a face. He tried not to, honestly, but it was hard not to do that what with dealing with Avenger's own face hiding in the side of his neck and his… _straightforwardness._

"As strange as you right now sitting on me, probably." He volleyed back, adjusting his voice volume to a low murmur only heard by Avenger's sharp ears.

Yeah _no_ , there will be a big bruise at the end of the day on his back. Harry would have cried with despair; masculine pride be damned. _Why him?_ But he forged on. So many questions to ask, so little time.

And like it or not, Harry was curious enough to be a cat.

"You are outright cuddly fellow right now. What gives?" He queried Avenger as he tried to tame that feeling of wrongness crawling all over his skin.

Once again, he heard Avenger's discordant hum thrumming into his ear.

"Ya _called_ me." Avenger breathed out, licking a stripe of Harry's skin on Harry's neck. "Well, that, an' ya are one kinky son of a bitch, tying me with ropes like tha'."

* * *

 _ **Scribbles**_

" _EXTREEEEEMEEEE!" A white-haired young boy howled with excitement as he punched the punching bag hanging on iron rope from the ceiling with gusto, his fist glowing bright yellow, as if he was holding within it a miniature sun._

 _KABOOOOM! The poor bag decided it had enough of weathering the abuse that had been heaped upon it and exploded, its innards spewing toward the wall like miniature bullets._

 _Harry, who just entered the gym with a smile on his face and a pitcher of lemonade and glasses on the tray, felt how the previously warm smile on his face froze upon seeing the mess Soichiro's youngest apprentice made of… what, tenth sandbag in this month?_

 _Was it just Harry, or had the number of grievously murdered sandbags jumped up exponentially ever since they had taken this cheerfully grinning boy who was currently dancing a victory dance around his downed opponent?_

 _Yes. Yes, it did._

"Kuzuki." _Harry called out, a saccharine smile on his face as he nodded to the excitable boy who pumped his hand into the air in victory._

 _The tall, gray-eyed man shrank back at the look in Harry's eyes. Harry didn't call them by their surnames… not really. Unless they somehow pissed him off… and right now, Soichiro was on that little list nobody wanted to be on._

" _Yes, Harry?" Soichiro didn't squeak. He was an assassin, and assassins didn't_ squeak _. Period. He aimed at Harry what he hoped was a smile number 33,_ 'be-calm-I've-got-everything -under-control-dear', _but Harry refuted him with his own smile number 58_ 'I-will-believe-it-when-I will-see-it' _combined with number 21_ 'now-fix-this-mess-or - **else'.**

" _Don't you think that teaching Ryohei-kun both Snake style and giving him tips on how to harden Sun Flames is a little bit too much of an…_ overkill?" _Harry asked, exasperated._

 _Soichiro opened his mouth, to either capitulate or launch a very feeble offensive - manly pride and all that - but his cute little apprentice had other ideas._

" _But Harry! You know the extreme rule!" Ryohei turned to Harry with big, glistening gray puppy dog eyes, so similar to Soichiro's own in color if not in expression._

 _Harry gave the bouncing ball of sunshine an indulgent smile. "And which one is that, Ryohei-kun?" He queried, genuinely interested in the child's answer._

 _Ryohei beamed, showing off his missing tooth and looking like a kid pirate, only with all his limbs attached and with no eye-patch to boot. The nose patch… well, that didn't count. Not really._

" _There's never too much dakka to the extreme!"_


End file.
